Om Snacky Me

Went to Govvie's Island to check me out some Edward Sharpe and de Magnetic Zeros last night. The wind was a blowin, the trumpet was blowin, my mind was blow'n! What a lovely lovely band of marauders. The last song went like, Alex came to the middle of the audience, he had us all sit down, and he played "Brother." What a man what a man what a mighty good man. And Jade? The goodest of women. I want to be her in life, or for Halloween

(which I will be spending in France this year...perhaps all meaning will be lost)

Suns Snack

My love for the Suns far surpasses my hatred for the Lakers. Thus, instead of harping on a loss, I will choose tonight to celebrate my team- a team in the truest sense of the word. They play with passion and love for one another and for the game. They are very inspiring to watch. And I would go on dates with all of them. Here's to my Phoenix Suns.

Pacifist Snack

Snackturday Night Live: Googly Eyes

oh ma gah. i'm crying

Bench Snack

Looking through my iPhoto, I found this. Taken three years ago maybe?

Jumbo Snack Pack: Two Entries in One

There is smoke, or steam, or something just so, rising always from the building across the street from me. It is a self-proclaimed Ironworks, which recalls a time when all businesses were suffixed with the word "-works." Waterworks, Metalworks, Widgetworks, Cabinetworks. I am just kidding. There was no such time. There may have been, but I don't know enough about it to make such a generalization!

I have no curtains yet in my new apartment. Yes! I moved. To Brooklyn, land of Kings. And my apartment lies inside one Castle, and I could not be happier in it. These last few weeks have been some of my busiest, which is a loud a brash statement to make at 3:35 on a Monday, but as you can see, I've naried with my blog posts, and they've been like Tim & Eric movies so it's not even some writing. I have to pick out a paint yet, and get my dresser and wine crates, and the curtains, yes, but it's all coming together nicely and neatly.

I like having an above ground train; it usually propels me to read oftener than its below-ground counterparts. Below ground, all I can do is sit and stare or be with music. Reading underground makes me feel weary. I read faster and more productively in natural sunlight, perhaps.

I was in a reading over the weekend, at Fresh Ground Pepper's final event of the year. We did 6 plays in 2 days, all with different casts and directors and playwrights. It was a blast, and it was in Brooklyn, so I got to walk there and back and get a cheesesteak.

I have hosted Speeddating events on pretty much every Sunday night since early June of this year, and this past Sunday we had a very rough one. Everyone was out of sorts and taking it out on me; it escalated in intensity and ridiculousness to the point that some lady yelled "I'm a lawyer!" in my face in order to, I don't know, beat me into validating her fears about life and love? I survived the barrage of angry women hurling their condescension at me, holding their Real-Life Jobs and Real-World Experience over my head like it's my fault that they are even at this event--when all I'm doing is, you know, ringing a bell so guys can rotate and doling out spring rolls and just being really nice to everyone so that maybe they'll be really nice to each other and maybe get over the Hurdle that is Putting Yourself Out There In Order To Get To Know Someone, helping them maybe have the courage to sit with a stranger for a few minutes and maybe possibly find a connection--I survived it, sure, but by the end I was feeling really low.

Dejected and tired and very starving, I shuffled into a pizza place pre-train and I met a fellow from Dallas. He was a Cowboys fan (blech) but we sat with each other and ate our pizza, I told him about my horrible night and he told me about his pretty good one, and we exchanged conversation about hobbies and jobs and salsa dancing and sports and growing up in the Southwest. And he told me something I hear so often, something I have heard from quite a few people lately in various contexts and degrees: You can only have as good a time as the goodness you put forth. You can only find love if you give love to the world. If you go into a situation with a negative energy, you will partake in a negative outcome.

You know, blah blah, The Secret, blah Oprah blah. I think it's true, though, I really do. I could have been weirded out by this guy who approached me in a Ray's Pizza and not talked to him and left, and I would have gone home hungry, in a bad mood, without the reminder he so generously and warmly bestowed upon me.

It really lifted my spirits, making friends with this random guy. He's in my phone as "Adrian, pizza" and maybe I'll see him again, and maybe I won't, but either way, when I'm scrolling through my phone to text Amy or Andrew or Ashley, I will most definitely think of him, and our fearless non-missed connection, and his positive message.

Other Exciting and Happy Things of the Past Few Days!
- Hung out in Queenz with some dears and read a play and drank some wine/whiskey
- Ran into DC! In Union Square. He slipped his book in my bag and we caught up in seconds.
- Dad met Steven Gerrard and Michael Ballack, WHAAAA
- Swiped some dumplings at work today. Savory.
- I start rehearsals tomorrow for a production of Hamlet directed by my dear friend John that will be in February!
- A reading of a musical I am co-writing under the guise of lovely Rob Heller will happen on December 17th at The Cherry Pit!
- I asked for time off from work to go home for Christmas! Oh, and I'm handmaking my gifts this year, and they are baller.
- I have some inkling ideas for my Christmas card. Be ready for one, if I love you. I probably do.
- Tchotchkes

Girly Movie Snack

So this guy came into work today..



Chances are 10 out of 10 of you have never seen this guy before. 11 of 10 of you wouldn't recognize his face or decide it was at all important. But I, however, saw his face, looked at it for probably too long, and subsequently placed it as "the face of the actor from 2005 romantic dramedy Prime" which I saw on a plane once and liked probably more than everyone else, ever. His character, in my opinion, was written purely with The Chicks in mind- like, he was perfect and yet he still had flaws? But like they were flaws that are inherent in all of us and thereby you know forgivable? But he, the actor, Bryan Greenberg, really gave a fresh performance. If I wasn't so worried of what people think of my opinions, I could use the word "transcendent." And he, the character, David, dates and just really really loves Uma Thurman's character, who has a really quirkyandunique name and is older than him. And Meryl Streep is his mom and her psychoanalyst, which provides the unnecessary romcom gimmick that the movie is based on. Of course, Mer is great and good as always. Really though, I just love the relationship between David and Rafi (see? I had to look that up, but it is full of quirk).

I found the movie on DVD at some store in Brooklyn that also sells a lot of Magic: The Gathering paraphernalia. It was three dollars so I bought it. I showed it to my roommates, who are both Chicks in their own right, and even THEY were like, "Jaclyn. Please." I'm really alone in thinking that this movie is Good with a capital G.

In the movie, they eat a lot of dinners. I think dinners are magical, and eating, and dinners with friends or dates. Cooking them, going out for them, trying new places, trying new foods, sampling many dishes, sharing many plates. My favorite dates include wine and full stomachs. I would name my Top 5, but that would require a lot of thought and I don't feel like letting a bunch of memories compete with each other internally! And it would make me hungry as shit. Anyway, that's probs part of the reason I loved Prime, because half of it was people in love eating and drinking and being merry, staring at each other over prosciutto in dim light.

In Summation: Saw a guy eating who was in a movie that I saw him eating in. La la la.

Train Snack

I arrived home this evening to cheese on my stairs. And broken balloons; these two things lead me to believe that I was not invited to a party someone threw for me.

On the train, I noticed a nebbish sort reading the Real Estate section of the Times next to a graying woman reading The New Yorker. Feeling inclined to join the club without making aware my infiltration, I stood over them and read each upside down. There was a gap between the two readers where the rest of the man's Sunday Times lay. I watched helplessly as the fat woman from the next stop sat upon it. The man ran his hands through his nebbish light brown hair; he was mourning the loss of five dollars and copious amounts of untapped knowledge. He never complained. The fat woman did not realize she was sitting on paper instead of a seat. The woman with the New Yorker was too busy reading the blurb about Madeleine Albright's fine brooch collection to notice the debacle, or even her incidental subway-intellectuals-club membership, or even that I was reading upside down over her.

I felt an affinity to the nebbish man. I felt it first when I noticed that he wore corduroys, and second when I saw he read about apartments he could never afford, and third when I empathized for his loss of five dollars and copious amounts if untapped knowledge. The fourth and most important moment was when, at the stop on 59th street, the woman with the tiny head and the gigantic puffy coat came on. The puffy coat, it was a Northface, it made her tiny head look even tinier. I had to stifle a laugh. I noticed him do the same.

He left the train, then, and I silently wished him well. He left without his paper, which was still underneath the fat woman. He is probably a writer, as he was equal parts nebbish and observant. I have noticed recently that one moment you realize you feel an affinity for someone is the moment when they walk out of a room and you feel you still have something left to say.

Everything I've Ever Wanted Snack

Can you die of happiness?

guy: whoa! she died! what of?

other guy: ...joy?

Summer of Cera Snack

I'm seeing Paper Heart for free next Tuesday. You can, too, if you RSVP here: Flavorpill.com.

Salad Snack

In the immortal words of Yung-I Chang,

"Love is not a salad bar."

The Snack's the Thing

I started a new play today. There are only three pages of it. The two main characters are Anne St. Mann and Nicholas Beat. So far, nothing really weird happens save for a cat riding a tire swing. I think the play will be a tribute to great friendships between people, or what it's like living in an apartment building full of mice and crazy people, or both.

NICHOLAS BEAT
B.J. Watson is moving to the city.

Anne St. Mann gasps loudly and faints immediately.
Nicholas Beat rolls his eyes.

NICHOLAS BEAT
B.J. Watson was the love of Anne’s life
Back in high school.
He was the guy she would reorganize her between-class-walking path for
In order to get a glimpse of him in the hallway.
On a good day, she would brush his arm.
On a great day, she would make eye contact with him.
The worst days were when she was running late or when he was out sick
Or when he was walking hand-in-hand with Brooke Barnum
Of the Vancouver Barnums,
Heiress to half of the Barnum and Bailey fortune.
I mean, it’s not like a huge fortune, it’s not like she was that little
There Will Be Blood boy.
Just circus money.
But she had great hair.
And B.J. Watson had her digits in his Fave Five.
And Anne had his in hers,
Although I doubt he ever knew it.

Robert Snackinson

Took a stroll through the new-and-improved Washington Square Park today, and what do I see? Hundreds of screaming girls. Then what do I see? A bunch of Robert Pattinson decoys surrounding a trailer. Then what do I see? The actual Robert Pattinson, walking into the Silver Center to film a non-Twilight movie. He was wearing all black, which was funny, because all of his decoys were dressed in plaid button uppy shirts like the picture above. Not a very thorough job, decoys.

I'm totes into Twilight, which is funny cos I don't normally fall in with many fangirl trends. Actually, that's a total lie. In 6th grade, I wrote a letter to Leonardo DiCaprio that was like "I'm sorry you didn't get nominated for the Oscar for Titanic, but you should be happy to know that my whole homeroom class has a crush on you." Then I had all the girls I knew sign it. And the PS was like "I hope you don't get too involved with drugs" because I was fresh out of the D.A.R.E. program. It got sent back to me because I got his address wrong.

pic via Radar

Cheese Snack

I just spent the last four hours alternating between cheese and pork while finishing my play. A reading of it happens on Saturday. You Can Inform Yourself of it Here; I am pretty stoked.

In other news,

These are Things my Boyfriend Doesn't Like Wearing:


Fedoras

Baggy Jeans

Boo

In other other news, my computer is really old. And Life is Crazy.

Atlanta Snack

These are some snacks I will enjoy while in Atlanta this weekend:

"I Want That" Snack

courtesy of Yung-i Changster

Auld Lang Snack

“The following song, an old song, of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript until I took it down from an old man"

-Robert Burns, on his poem "Auld Lang Syne."

"I mean, 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?".

-Harry, from When Harry Met Sally

Click Below to Watch The Best Use of "Auld Lang Syne," and Probably Cry:

It's a Wonderful Life

fotografia courtesy of googz

Modern Love Snack

Let's Not Get to Know Each Other Better

by Joel Walkowski
published June 8, 2008


Runner up in the NYTimes Modern Love College Essay Contest

fotografia courtesy of topleftpixel.com

Post Snack

I saw Matthew R. Gehring's PostSecret play last night. I was very much moved by the experience. It plays for the rest of the week on the 2nd floor of Tisch. I would post more information but I think it's sold out.

Upon much musing, I have decided that this snack site is sort of a descendant or derivative of PostSecret. What it stands for, how it operates. Tiny things that bring to mind larger things. Or large things, made small. Nibblets and Tidbits, Snacks and Secrets.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

PetruSnack

Another column from The State Press at ASU.

Lesson from the grief-striken

By:Alex Petrusek
Published On:Thursday, September 4, 2008

This past week, I lost someone very dear to me.

I had spent the entire day at school, either in class or at meetings, re-immersing myself in the world of ASU. My mind was busy with buying books, making classes on time, clubs I was interested in and, of course, pretty girls.

By the time I got home and the news hit me, all of the previous twelve or so hours faded into trivial oblivion.

In the following days, I wore a black armband to commemorate her loss; partly to remind me of her presence, partly to remind me of how easily I’d lost sight of that presence.

I knew she was sick, and that the end could come any time. But I didn’t think about her inevitable death solely because I didn’t want to think about it.

Yet it happened anyway.

Life, however, continues onwards, whether I’m ready or not. Throughout this week, I have been continually struck with a combination of sadness and detachment.

I feel regret that I didn’t fully appreciate that which matters, not just in the passing of my friend, but throughout my life. I feel regret at walking through life with selective tunnel vision, focused on the flashy and immediate instead of the beauty I already know and love.

However, the experience hasn’t been entirely negative; I also feel a strange and powerful appreciation and acceptance.

Existence really does play by its own rules, and we all must come to terms with that which is out of our realm of control.

In the end, despite the pain I feel now, I know I am a very lucky man. Our lifestyles often perpetuate a busy schedule, and many of us end up involved in so many activities, attitudes, and “obligations” we forget who we are, where we’ve come from, and who has helped us shape that identity. Those closest to us, our families and close friends, appear to be guarantees, as running constants in a vastly changing life.

I assure you, they are no more constant than a single wave on a shore.In the upcoming days, look around at your friends and family. Slow down, collect your thoughts and busy schedule; listen to their words, pay attention to their actions, and appreciate that, for the moment, you are together.

You have been allowed that moment to share each other’s lives.

And that’s the only guarantee, really; a series of moments, to be appreciated one by one until they’re gone.

Because when those moments end, all you’re left with are memories, a picture-like shadow of what once existed in reality.

We may have our memories, but we cannot replace what has been lost. We cannot take it with us.

But we can appreciate it while we have it.

fotografia courtesy of frostfriends.org