i like new york in april.

end-of-april through mid-may is the nicest part of when winter goes away and the sun returns. balmy. not yet sweaty.

first i attached my bike bell, and then we rode down broadway to central part and then made the big loop, then picnic lunched (cold cuts! wheat bread! pinot grigio! chocolate and apples!) and rode west to riverside park and all the way uptown to washington heights.

i truly could not have planned a better day.

19 working days left.

and then some travel, and then i will end up here.

and then i'm taking a wine tour, mofos!

with longings.

i don't have much that's helpful to say this week, but i can at least share this, from my friend pasha, who recieved the following spam email recently:

"seu mala falei com um gordinho super fofo qe
ta na angola.to com saudades do seu bumbum."

sez pasha:

I figured it was
Portuguese. So I punched it into one of those online translator
things. Here's what came out (the punctuation and line-breaks are my
own):


"Your Own Suitcase"

I spoke,
aged one.
"Gordinho!
Super fofo qe ta."
At the Angola,
along --
nostalgia from its
bum-bum.


And here's the Brazilian Portuguese version:

"Untitled"

Your suitcase
talked to a gordinho,
super-light.
"Qe ta?"
On, Angola!
With longings
of your butt.


-P.

shameful.

i know. shameful neglect.

but this dance project ate my life for two weeks. the experience was moderately high in anxiety, but did introduce me to some very good and lovely people. photos to come, but in the meantime, this review (if you don't want to register for the times, try bugmenot.)

the choreographer says this reviewer doesn't like much, and i'll admit her words are certainly not generous. she did, however, seem to like me. i think; the compliment is sort of . . . begrudging and/or backhanded. i'm trying to remember if she saw the show where my improv with the audience included the man who said he had "lust" in his pocket or the one where i said "walt whitman" and the audience heard "wellbutrin." whatev.

keeping up.

the video ipod came in the mail last week.

did i already have an ipod? yes. but, to paraphrase mike doughty:

you don't understand. it's very tiny.

tininess wasn't really the selling point. it has video. which means watching the daily show in bryant park, and taking movies to france next month, and finally seeing ben's angel-spoof project-thing.

also, all we had to do to get it was ship the giant cardboard box of CDs (which has been on our living room floor since we moved) to a used CD store in south carolina. they totted up the value of what we'd sent them and sent us an ipod in exchange. which takes up a lot less floor space than the box of two hundred CDs, and is handier for long airplane rides.

everyone wins!


but especially us.

from the peanut gallery.

content sent to me today: this, from k-howe.



and this, from the mama.



at first, we were told these were made out of marzipan, and i couldn't tell whether i was fascinated or grossed out. however, snopes.com lists the marzipan baby email as a hoax. they're actually made by this artist. now that i know they're not edible, i'm far less grossed out.