Thursday, February 24, 2011

the sex museum

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Picture of the Day

A stash of greenery was left behind on the 6 train this afternoon, and I happened to sit down next to it.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

at last....

It finally hit me. And then all the sudden I realized I was one of them; one of the drifters who weren't really lost, but just wandering New York and exploring it's many crevices hoping to find a niche that I could fit into. The truth is, you never really fit in. And that's when you do, when you finally realize that. 

Tonight I smiled from ear to ear. It was almost obscene, if a smile can be obscene. They do not make movies like this any more; I caught a viewing of Funny Face at the Tribeca Grand Hotel. Besides from the fact that I feel like a creature who was born to live and lurk in the darkness of swank hotel lobbies (hello, Royalton!), I have loved Audrey Hepburn since I was four years old (Roman Holiday was my Audrey introduction). 

Tonight's ending to the weekend came as a much blessed answer to the dismal weekend's games and charades. I say that not because I had a bad weekend. Oh it was fantastic. I hung out with some amazingly talented people, brunched and stayed way pass reasonable hours, witnessed extraordinary live music and blurted a lot of things (existentialism?) while excessively lubricated with the driest white wine. There were a few beautiful girls, fragile, but gorgeous girls.

What left me disheartened was how desperate the 'night life' in New York is. You can dress it up however you want, you can cover it with the most expensive perfumes and extend your gaze with feathery lashes, but at the end of the night, you just want someone to kiss and take home. An empty and heartless pursuit which completely turns me off. These people weren't here to talk, they didn't want wit. They wanted tease and flesh. A small glimpse of hope so they can do this again next weekend. The most enlightening part of my nights? A conversation I exchanged with a sweet cab driver from Harlem who just got married last year. 

And then words of wisdom from a girlfriend floated down on me, "There is so much more to New York than going out and getting drunk." 

There is so much more to this city, and I felt like I have let myself and her down. So today after brunch, I ditched the subway and the cabs, and walked (more like strolled languidly) home. And tonight I took myself out to the Tribeca Grand and indulged in more wine, buttery popcorn, and Funny Face. I was lucky to even have a friend to laugh with. And for a few hours, I was transported to Paris, to which I think New York would be its mistress. I was sad for a moment when I realized that only in New York can I have a glorious night like this after such an lonely weekend surrounded by so many people.

From now on I promise you, sweet New York, that I will explore all the other things which you have to offer, not just your dark nights that seem to be filled with the same old. I will pick out my favorites and compile a list for whoever may need it:

"If you feel lonely, go to so and so.... If all you want to do is dance and forget, go here.... If you want to be alone to read, take up a spot at so and so...." Ask me later, and I will tell you.

Some screencaps from the film, courtesy of

bits of gold

just like the one i knit him

remnants from last night

Saturday, February 19, 2011


took this on the way to brunch with my girlfriend.
the words someone said to me a long time ago are starting to sink in...

Friday, February 18, 2011

a rose is a rose is a rogue

"Perfume, fundamentally, is the sexual attraction of flowers, or, in the case of civet and musk, of animals. Squeezed from the reproductive glands of plants and creatures, perfume is the smell of creation, a sign dramatically delivered to our senses of the Earth's regenerative powers--a message of hope and a message of pleasure.

What we are talking about, then, is magic, is it not so? In anthropological understanding of homeopathic magic, perfume is the medium by which the lady magically usurps the sexual powers of the blossom." -Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

Currently obsessed with this scent. I keep applying and re-applying, each time I'm flooded with images of early morning sunlight heating up rain-soaked cobblestones, flaky pastries, foamy cappuccinos, street floral vendors and second empire architecture. Roses and fresh bathed skin. Scent is sensuality.

I live my life obsessive about perfume and a woman's 'signature scent.' Every memorable woman should have one if she wishes to stay memorable. Scent is the strongest sense linked to memory. For the longest time I stuck to a bold floral note, that could cut through all that girly citrus perfume that everyone wears with how fresh and light it was. It reminded me of fresh air, something new and unconventional, but daring and won't step down even when standing next to sandalwood and its musky cousins. That was in college. And then I flitted here and there with some brand names that people were gushing over. I liked them, but was never obsessed about them. The fact that they were so popular also made them less appealing. Who wants to smell like everyone else? And I would forget what they smelled like after they wore off, and didn't desire for a refresher.

A scent should stick. It should leave you intoxicated and wanting for more, never getting enough, reviving in you old and new dreams you forgot you had. Dreams you had when you were a little girl and didn't have an inkling what a kiss felt like.

This little no-name bottle did not cost a dime, but it's practically priceless in the olfactory power which it has over me.

Never pick a perfume based on how it smells in the bottle. You have to let it come in contact with your skin and react with your natural pheromones. Only then will you know if it is meant for you. It will either mix very well with your body's natural odor and chemistry, or it will smell more pungent than it was in the bottle. My perfume smells entirely different in the bottle than it does on my skin. And that's the only way I can explain it.

self-induced nagging

That is my windowsill earlier this morning. That is a stuff iguana's arm on the bottom left. Outside is a mediocre view of south street seaport and office buildings with really good vantage point of view into our room. And since I live like a nudist in my room, the blinds stay down.

I wanted to update all week. I had this self-induce nagging feeling all week, but I just kinda stayed beneath my sheets and tried my best to finish my book. The lover has left me. Not quite as dramatic. He's gone to Shanghai for a few months' stint for his job. His departure hit us abruptly. Kind of like when you come upon a sudden step in the asphalt that you didn't know existed. A sudden, and deep sinking feeling that your body didn't expect. So I buried myself deeper inside my sheets, read more, ate less, and downloaded a lot of weird/interesting apps on my iPhone (guilty pleasure confession).

When he left, we were both shocked at how much tears were involved. I can usually cry on command, but from him, it was like walking on the moon; somewhere only a few men have ventured. And I get to broadcast it on my blog. I hope he doesn't read this.

I'll be joining him in a month and a half after a stopover in Paris to gather reconnaissance for a move that I hope will happen later this year. From then we hope to pillage what we can of the Republic of China, and stop by Vietnam (my sweet home land). I really want to visit my grandfather's grave with him. I really want to say a few things I never got to say, in the presence of two men who love me more than life.

never land

Kirsten Dunst for Band of Outsiders

Monday, February 7, 2011

Dean & Deluca flowers

Per my usual visit to the floral section at dean & deluca, I came upon
these strange tulips. I love their frilly edges. Very spring.

Jitterbug Perfume

I am nearing the back of this book and find myself purposely delaying
because it's so fantastic that I don't want it to end. Will have to
pick up another of his novels soon. He has so much fun with words that
it's a joy to read and to see what he will come up with next.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

golden coast

so when we left New York for Los Angeles, the weather was 19 degrees. I was so ready for warmth.

We were lucky enough to get flights on Virgin America at the last minute.

Goodbye snow. Definitely won't miss you.

To keep the flight interesting (and for better naps) we had a small bottle of chardonnay. Every since moving to New York, I find myself drinking with every meal.

The first thing we did when we landed, went out for sushi with my cousin, who is studying at USC.

I don't think I will ever tire of seeing palm trees.

 Red lanterns at Little Tokyo.

We don't have this on the east coast, so lover and I decided it was worth waiting two hours to try this.

 Magazine heaven for me

 We stayed at the Roosevelt Hotel. This is the pool.

 Mochi ice cream.

 Breakfast in bed.

So long Los Angeles!

Until next time.