Oliver Sucks

I read Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks this week. It was good but I wasn't entirely amused. I heard of him through my favorite author, Siri Hustvedt. She too writes heavily on neurology and art and music and she often references some of his work and I believe they may have been good friends. She is a much better writer and isn't telling stories the way Oliver Sacks does. He tells you an interesting story and then just starts telling you another one. I understand that science, specifically neurology, can be difficult to write about in a digestible way for people who don't know much about the science behind the brain, but Siri really takes you through the brain in a much more sophisticated and stimulating way. She really blows my mind and I wish I could read all of her essays for the first time again. I was hopeful that Oliver Sacks would bring me this joy but he let me down. Maybe I'll try another one of his books, but my expectations are much lower now and I can't undo what Siri's work did to me! I was in Berlin when I read her largest book of essays and I remember reading it in 6 hour sittings, completely entranced. With Musicophilia, I found I was just reading fun facts for me to retell at a party to seem interesting, which I will for certain do.

I was reading at the coffee shop a few days ago in the East Village and a rather frumpy old woman asked to sit at my table. She didn't seem to like me all that much for whatever reason but I kept to myself. The barista came over to her with her coffee and said, "Do you wanna spoon?" and she said yes, to which he replied, "Okay! You're place or mine?!" They both let out breathless laughs like broken wind instruments and I couldn't help but laugh along. The second my lips shaped into a smile and I let out a single breath of humor, they both stopped laughing and glared at me and went on their ways. She gathered her things and asked for a to-go cup and left briskly.

My attention span has truly morphed into something out of the ordinary ever since I deleted all my social media. I've been reading 3-5 books a week and practicing the piano with my greatest undivided attention. I'm constantly shocked at how much time has passed when I look up from my book or over at the clock when I'm playing piano. My brain surely does feel more stimulated and my anxiety has gone down revelatory amounts. The only problem with deleting social media is that close acquaintances think you've blocked them.
At a house party on Friday, I saw one of my crushes. He was with a girl who I could care less about so I stopped the pursuit there. I spent the whole party in my friend's bedroom and laid around on the bed with 8 or so other people, laughing, talking and being stupid. The next day, my crush texted me saying, "Are you mad at me? :( I tried to send you a song but it looks like you blocked me on Instagram! Did I do something?" I was flattered he cared enough to ask but also confused as to why he cares when he has a girlfriend now. "No," I said, "I just deleted it because I was spending too much time on my phone. But, btw, I don't really care you are seeing G. but you could've told me so I wouldn't have wasted so much time talking to you with a possibly romantic intention..." He replied quickly and apologetically, "No! We are only kind of seeing each other. I was talking to you too with a possibly romantic intention also..." I don't know what to think about it because I honestly feel asexual as of late. It didn't really phase me or make anything inside me feel very much. Ever since I started HRT a month ago, my romantic/sex drive has gone down significantly and it is truly a blessing. I was boy crazy for 3 years straight and now I'm finally feeling like I can breath again. I'm open to intimacy but don't desire it the way I used too. The other major difference I've noticed since I started HRT is that I only eat spicy food and my tolerance for spice skyrocketed essentially over night. Everything I eat must be spicy or I am bored. I also like rock music now.

A few weeks ago, Mercury passed over the Sun. I walked down to the East River Bandshell where astronomers from all over the city had set up telescopes for anyone to look through. I showed up near the final moments of the terrestrial event but still got a good view. Through the telescope, the Sun was a white circle and Mercury was a little black dot, moving at a glacial pace. It all felt rather significant and special and I talked to the astronomers about what it all means. I don't remember what they said but I felt very happy afterwards. I walked all over the city thinking about Mercury and it's little trip in front of the Sun. I don't know why it affected me so much but I can only assume it's because its such a relief to feel small and temporary. To remember that from Mercury's point of view, we are all essentially little tiny microscopic germs living incredibly short and meaningless lives. It put a pep-in-my-step to feel like a germ.

Trying to save my money up so I can take another month-long solo vacation to Iceland in February. It will be a feat if I manage but I've been longing to go for so long now and it feels like the right time to go. I want to go when Iceland is at it's most Icelandic self. Maybe Iceland's identity is stronger in December but I'm incredibly broke due to this frugal phase I'm in. All I want to do is go shopping and spend a lot of money on nice food. I've been eating at this pricey sushi restaurant alone a lot and ordering whatever I please. Now that is not an option, sadly. I want to be rich so I can eat wherever I want and order whatever I want. I don't really care for a nicer apartment or to own a car or anything like that, I just want to be able to order the nicest glass of wine with the nicest cut of the nicest fish. I dated a guy briefly who's billionaire father funded that lifestyle for him. It was nice to tag along but he ended up being rather spineless, as you can imagine.

jasmine

I feel guilty for not having posted in so long. I remember making a mental note at the beginning of October to really get on top of things and start writing more as Autumn comes but clearly I kept a false promise to myself! It's funny though how it all doesn't even matter, a nice thought to have. 

So much has happened since I last wrote that I find it pointless to even try to summarize all of the significant episodes. The important details will just have to come in quietly, on their own, at different times. 

I went to the new and improved MoMA the other day. I had no idea it had been closed for renovations all Spring and Summer but I guess it had just reopened in October. I had heard it was much much larger and more interesting so I took the train up at about 1pm and got out at Bryant Park so I could walk up 6th Avenue. I brought my camera incase I had a fleeting moment of inspiration to take photos. To my surprise, I was very inspired by all of the people on the street and did in fact start taking photos. Everyone, all the 9-5'ers, the tourists, the middle-aged European long faced couples, nurses and teenagers looked exceptionally stylish. It wasn't until I reached MoMA that it came to my attention that there was no film in the camera. 

I was very overwhelmed by the new MoMA. It was the same but different. The walls were moved around and the ticketing desks were in strange places leaving me disoriented like a dream where you can't walk in the direction you are trying to walk in. It was hot in the museum and I took off my scarf and coat and started up the first set of stairs. I don't like museums, I get overwhelmed trying to see everything yet at the same time, looking at art usually bores me. I like pictures and moving images and collages and some paintings. I waited in line for 2 hours at the Pompidou in Paris one time only to leave after 10 minutes because it truly does make my skin crawl. I of course like art but something about large contemporary museums make me angry. 

I stormed through the entire museum, or so I think. I'm not sure if I missed a room but I walked through every room I did see an entrance to. I looked at the sculpture garden through a window in a room with some Yoko Ono pieces about, well, peace. I found Monet's Water Lillies. They always make me think of Sex and the City when Charlotte becomes a tour guide at MoMA and sees her ex-mother-in-law, Bunny, criticizing the Monets. I saw something Andy Warhol made, I think. I like Magritte's paintings. I saw the one that has the plate, the cup and a fork and a knife. It looks like a normal still-life but if you get closer, you can see an eyeball wedged into the ceramic plate. I like photographs of people and there were some of those scattered around. I like photos in general, especially when they're blown up all big. I love seeing Deana Lawson's photos printed largely. 

I left MoMA and went to Chick-Fil-A. I waited in line behind all the antsy people on their late lunch breaks. I had a classic chicken sandwich with waffle fries and a large coke. I fisted my hand into the box of mayonnaise packets and put my other hand in the hot sauce. I ate my food in Bryant Park and read for an hour and half. I tried to listen in on a conversation near me because I overheard "Harvey Weinstein" being thrown back and fourth with sympathy and wanted to hear why they sounded so pleased to say his name.

I've been sleeping in Ridgewood lately at my friend's apartment. She usually sleeps at mine in Chinatown but to be a fair friend, I have been taking the trek out to hers. It does, however, make more sense to sleep at mine considering we both work within spitting distance from my apartment. Neither of us have any business in Ridgewood other than to sleep. The early morning serenity of Ridgewood is rather nice, though. I wake up before my friend and head to a coffee shop around the corner at around 7:30 and then at around 9, I will text everyone I know who lives in Ridgewood and invite them to come have coffee with me and talk shit. Or, as expected, I just run into other people by happenstance and they sit with me. Zoe came to me the other morning and told me to read a book called FEMALES by Andrea Long Chu. It's short and new. I read it in just two 30 minute sittings. I finished it yesterday morning and went to McNally Jackson to find something new to read. As I walked in, there was a poster on the door advertising FEMALES and that Andrea Long Chu would be speaking that night at 7:30pm. What a coincidence, I thought. I meandered around the store and eventually I chose Annie Dillard's, PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK. As I was checking out, I flirted with one of the employees. He always compliments me in some way. The other day it was my socks and yesterday my book choice. He asked me if I would come to the talk that night and I said maybe. He said he was planning on sticking around for it. I never ended up going but am now realizing maybe I should have. I had wine instead. 

I started Hormone Replacement Therapy about 2 weeks ago. It's been kind of strange but not by any means shocking. I was expecting it to be scary but its not. The most annoying change is the occasional stomach cramps but otherwise my life feels entirely normal. I'm happy I have refrained from drawing a line of 'pre-hormones' and 'post-hormones'. The only reason I believe I can do that comfortably is because truly not much is changing in my social life and I let that privilege be without argument. I'm not coming out to anyone's surprise, heck, I'm not even coming out at all. I'm just taking a pill and my face is getting prettier. That's all it seems to be for me, for now. Who knows, maybe I don't know whats coming but at least I can have that thought to keep me on my toes. My first day back from Mexico was a bit scary but Ethan helped me back to normalcy. I had been in my bedroom and felt it wasn't my room and that my friends weren't my friends. That all went away by spending time with my friends and eating at my favorite restaurant and buying nice new socks. 

I'm excited for a snowy evening soon, I bought a mink fur coat with a matching fur hairband. I am itching to wear it in the dark. I bought the coat from a large Russian woman named Angela on 2nd and 2nd. She always has the best selection of coats and dresses. My friend bought a great Missoni dress there one time, and some Prada boots as well. Its fairly priced and you have to sort through a good amount of forgettable things but there is always something worth at least trying on. 

 

I smelled jasmine in the air the other day and was shortly teleported back to Berlin in late March. 

-m.