oh, it's what you do to me

I'm here. I'm in my new apartment on a new street in a new neighborhood with a bodega on the corner. It's winter. Chill is in the air. We don't have curtains for the windows yet so the renters in the building across the street can peer into our lives here, our small three bedroom apartment with two baths. One bathroom looks like a closet with a window in it. It's tiled in white and beautiful.

Today begins my adventure in New York with all the promise and potential of a first kiss. I'd call today a wink.

I ate Cream of Wheat in the car on the way to the airport this morning. My mother made it with a soup of chicken, pork both salted and plain and a healthy addition of napa cabbage. My father drove fast. My mother drew a happy face on the foggy window with her knuckle. I stared at the San Bernardino mountains for a while. The dog had been clingy as I raced back and forth from my suitcase to my room. He knew I was leaving.

On the plane, more staring at mountains, more strange uncertainty until the plane taxied around a corner on the runway and suddenly gained speed. The rumble of quickness and the thunder of air brought a smile to my face. It was happening. I did it.

On the flight from Denver to New York City, I ate a small bag of small pretzels and sat alone in a row of three seats. I became sleepy and folded my rabbit fur coat into a makeshift pillow and lay my head on the newly decadent aisle seat and "slept the sleep of assassins and kings/ remorseless." (1)

The first thing I ate here was a handful of strawberry Starburst candies. Apparently Karen likes cherry, Nate likes orange and I'm no prognosticator but I'm seeing a lot of lemon Starburst in what I can only describe as something that looks like the garbage can soon. Maybe Ed will eat the yellow ones.

Call it an amuse bouche. Follow it with dinner at Daniel and that was the first meal in New York City. Canapes and amuses at one of the best restaurants in the city, sauteed foie gras with cherry clafoutis to start and a paupiette of black sea bass. Think of a paupiette as a frilled, fried potato jacket wrapped around a smooth white fish with wide, soft flakes of protein. Like a delicious ocean armadillo. Desserts came in sets of three courtesy of my roommate Karen and her cohorts in the pastry department. Blood orange sorbet, chocolate cremeux, strawberry vacheron, peanut crusted banana, coffee infused ice cream sable sandwich... all mini versions suitable for a tasting menu.

I miss Los Angeles but, this is what I've been waiting for. This is my time to be. Time to ruminate. I met a bunch of investment bankers today. I learned about a financial product called a "derivative." We ate dinner at Barcibo Enoteca (2), an Italian tapas restaurant on the NE corner of Broadway and 69th. I had veal meatball bruschetta and a three cheese panini with mushrooms. Both were savory and soft with crisp bread to balance the texture. For dessert, tiramisu in the raw which was assembled with ladyfingers, a cup of espresso and a bowl of whipped marscapone, cream and sugar with a dusting of cocoa powder. As they inquired of my origins they immediately asked me what I was going to do for work. I told them I wasn't. Are you trying to find a job, they asked. I'm actually not, I replied. They smiled the theoretical admiration of people who would never do what I've done. I suppose since I'm not making $200K/ year, it's easy for me to not care about money because I have so little. It's because they have more that they do care. They have an appreciation for their many hard earned dollars. But to love my life as much as I do, I could tell immediately that that's something they don't have.

(1) Sleepyhead Assassins, a poetry book by Mindy Netifee.
(2) They don't have a website. Come visit me and I will take you there.