THE MARLBORO WOMAN

i quit cigarettes six months ago.  pretty unbelievable.

i smoked a pack plus of marlboros reds a day.  for half my life.  it scares me even to write that.  but like so many of my fate tempting feats, fear emerges only in hindsight.  

it was a huge part of my identity.  i held the flammable banner of tough talking sex drugs and rock n roll suicide liz high.  

oh, and i fucking adored it.  

25 years old was originally the smoking cut off (since that's around the time the body starts the slow biological descent cell-wise) but a fairly profound existential crisis and return trips to camp wackajobba kept me puffing away.  in a way, after surviving my 20's, quitting smoking is kind of a cinch.

but i refuse to be the fanatical non smoker, for two reasons.  first, it seems like an extension of my now, hopefully extinguished, smokers identity.  second and most importantly, lifewise, instead of bouncing between familiar extremes, i'm trying to find a midpoint, dare i say, balance.

in short, i'm trying to grow up.  taking care of my health is the most adult (and most difficult) first step towards being a big girl.

smoke 'em if you got 'em, by all means,  but here are a few things that helped me:

pure vainIty

restorative yoga(assisted napping )

falling in love

that horrible allen carr book

nicorette

really really really wanting it

the sage advice: get off more on not smoking

channeling OCD i.e. using the powers of compulsion for good instead of evil

remembering there was a me who existed before smoking and hopefully will live much longer now as a result of getting back to her.

I  love New York City Delis.  The deli or the bodega or the market- whatever you call it.   What it offers, how it displays it, tells you so much about any given neighborhood.  Does it carry just The Post, only the The Times, or the NYC trifecta The Post, The Times, and the retarded step cousin, The Daily News?

I have fine tuned my own rating system based on a number of indicators.  Here's a few:

SODA:  Bottles only?  Or the rarer and slightly nostalgic tin can as well?  The diet selection is of utmost importance to my ranking.  Just the standards- Diet Coke, Pepsi, Sprite won't do.  I have been spoiled.  I expect Diet Orange Creme, Celray, Black Cherry, and the oh so retro TAB of my childhood.

GUM/CANDY: This figures highly into my final score.  Again, major points for the sugar free gum choices, preferably with new, exotic, and limited edition flavors.  Candy is less important, though a Charleston Chew, Skor Bar, or Hostess Snowballs is impressive.

It's gotten to the point where I just may visit a deli to see the selection.  It's like a free museum with the option to eat the art.

  

You learn everything about the block your on, the character of the community, from what's stocked on the shelves and even how it's stocked.  The East Village is so vastly different from the Upper West Side.  Williamsburg, which has seen a major overhaul, from sticky bags of plantain chips and foreign cakes under cloudy plastic pastry covers to organic veggie chips and power bars,  is another world deli-wise from the Upper East Side.    

I think there's an article in this.

AND SPEAKING OF COMMENTARY

sphinx

a scarily accurate photoshop commentary

artwork by rufus tureen

as a general blog rule, 3 things i want to avoid are:

1. too earnestly reflecting on city life

2. weather metaphors

3. a combination of the two, otherwise known as "the reverse chekhov"

With that said, a bit of earnest urban self reflection as it relates to the weather.

I just got caught in one of those tropical nyc summer downpours.  you know the kind- drops down out of no where, stranding otherwise ballsy nyers under drooling awnings, clinging together as if they'll die of rainy-ness.  The occasional kamakazee garbage bag clad delivery boy running madly down the abandoned sidewalk - he has the Bandaid approach to rain.  Do it quickly.  

I take the slow cinematic approach.  Rain is sexy.  Walking slowly in it, borderline erotic.  A clingy dress is just that much more Faye Wray when wet.  Hair slicked back feels so Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue somehow.  Besides, mascara smudges just perfectly with raindrops. But I perpetually sexually digress...

But more than playing the role of enigmatic vixen in a downpour, what I truly love is watching the city grind to an almost halt.  Like a mini adult snow day.  When the weather forces me to see a city that I'm usually too busy trying to conquer. 

Thank you for indulging me.  I promise to return to my native tongue of Sardonia.

R.I.P. child actors

there's so much to love about this picture.  

the hair.  the vest.  the one shoe, askew.  the Blossom-esque hat on the floor.

and the sawhorse she is straddling.  

there's a little piece of heaven reserved just for child actors.  I hope.

STRAIGHT MEN AND FLIP FLOPS

Summer has descended like a wet electric blanket here in Gotham.  And with the humidity comes the equally tacky fashions- only to be explained by heat induced cataracts or advanced heatstroke.

The unofficial kick-off is Puerto Rican Day Parade, which salsa-ed it's way down 5th Avenue this past Sunday.  The signature one starred  flag is magically transformed into a halter top! Poof!  Jean shorts worn so short, it gives me a yeast infection just looking at them.  Itch!

To borrow a line from the Noel Coward's play, Hayfever (made long before the advent of the hyperextended tube top, though certainly still applicable), a lot of NYC summer looks  "strain freedom to it's limits." 

But worse than all these, the summer trend that seems here to stay, is STRAIGHT MEN IN FLIP FLOPS.  I have no good explanation for my aversion, except to say they are to be filed in the same category as Co-Ed Naked Lacrosse t-shirts and the fragrance, Drakkar Noir.  It just smacks of  keg stands, date rape, and other time honored American college campus past times.  

Flip flops are okay, gay men in flip flops- no problem, women in flip flops- fine with a pedicure, but heterosexual males should just not be allowed..... This ain't Greece.  

I'm going to write Bloomberg.  He'll fix it.