You came over last night. We drank and ate delicious chocolate and had heart to hearts and gazed adoringly at pictures of an old boyfriend's parents.

I cooked us up a lovely dinner

And you were a babe .

Interactions like those make me realize the point of it all and make me appreciate the value of genuinely enjoyable and nourishing company. I love you.

-Camille

Tonight I went to an opening at a gallery where my mother used to work in Tribeca*. Andy Bernard art critic Camille: that art was bad.
And it was. So, so very bad.
BUT! It was worth the subway fare a few times over for the lovely compliments I received (I am sorry, but I love being the young, fresh-faced sex kitten in a room full of droopin' old lady Persian cats) and for the nice people I got to meet. I so rarely get to immerse myself in the refined art world's social scene sans my mother, so it was a super treat to do it tonight.

After I got home, I went for a little walk on Amsterdam and spotted these cuties:
Some bitch (she was not a bitch, I am being sensitive) inside the store said "UM, SOMEONE IS TAKING PICTURES OUTSIDE" in a very "I am the boss of everyone, this could be an emergency, be ready to call the authorities" sort of way, so I popped my head in and said "these are fantastic! The knuckles on the little bloody fingers?!" and then had a mini conversation with the chick who had knit them. That chick was totally happy, but the others were scowly and apprehensive. Overall, though, good interaction!

Also. I kissed and made up with the person I fought with Saturday. I think we'll get together this weekend and I'll knit while he watches a movie. Doesn't that sound cozy? Yes.


* I hate when people write Tribeca as TriBeCa. Don't don't don't do it.

-Camille

PPS
I LOVE harvest moon. Obviously.

-Karen

On Saturday I celebrated the 20th birthday of a close friend, with a party dedicated to the 90s. It felt really great to dress up, while listening to TLC and the smooth stylings of Will Smith, cultural and lifelong icon of us all. In fact, today I was delighted to turn on the TV to TBS and find three consecutive episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel Air on t.v. I'll always have a place in my heart for the Fresh Prince, and the last episode of the series, where he takes one last knowing glance at the camera and turns off the lights, never fails to make my eyes well up. In tribute to Will Smith, I looked like this.
Dressing up for time travel took less than five minutes, as everything I'm wearing here has a regular rotation in my wardrobe. The next day I watched Clueless and lusted after Paul Rudd, and I missed the 90s.
At this party, I had a wonderful realization about New York, as I peered off the terrace of my friend's absurdly inappropriately posh, upper east side terrace and pretended it was mine, all the while craning my neck to peer in the glass windows of a penthouse room which looked to be a ballet studio in someone's apartment, that our city measures wealth by how high you are in the stratosphere, how few other people are at your level, and when it rises and sets, how long you get to be across the way from the sun.

How long long does it bathe you in its glow as you look out the window of your vast dining room before doing your morning routine in your ballet studio? How prominently might F. Scott Fitzgerald featured you in one of his silly pseudo-moral short stories? Might Christian Bale as Batman have to scale your building while tracking a villain? If so, you've made it.

PS, are other people as obsessed with their cats as I am? Because how great is my cat. I mean really.

-Karen

A few years ago, I was friends with someone crazy. I had graduated from high school, I was employed at a local cafe from 5am-5pm, and then during nights I would play in a band (rehearsals or gigs, ~3-5x a week) from 9pm-2 or 3am. I was a huge fan of naps, of not eating as much as I should have (no lie, it was killer for my figure despite the lack of sleep), and getting yelled at by this friend at any or every hour for completely ridiculous, petty things. If I was happy, they would yell at me for not listening to their problems. If I was sad, they would yell worse for me "clamming up" and not telling them what was wrong. Every time my phone rang, I would automatically become nauseated, as the only people to ever call me were my manager or this crazy friend.
Friend would call "just to chat," to "set me straight," or to give me real solid life-advice. Every day. More than once a day.

Look how shiny my hair was. Ahh, those were the days.
Note: that is not crazy friend. That is my beautiful sister, Brawlina.

When I went to school, I was delighted, as it was a brilliant way to painlessly extricate myself from friend's clutches. And so they kept calling, albeit with less frequency, until one day the calls--without my realizing it--had stopped! I was free and boy oh boy it was good. Then, a few months later, friend texted me a few long epics to see if I was interested in a business venture. It was a big deal in their life, I knew, and it was actually pretty nice for them to want me to get in on it, but no fucking way was I walking back into that trap again. No siree.
So I ignored the texts, every single one, until I finally received the last which said, "So I guess that's a no...?"
and I ignored the shit out of that one too. My reasoning was this: oh, I've changed my number. I didn't receive any of your texts, crazy, so sorry that I missed out on this big deal of yours!
And I've felt fine about it since. No guilt, easy explanation.

But just now, a few years out of that truly draining relationship, I had a thought as I was washing my hands in the bathroom at work.
If I ever do want to rekindle things with them (or be in close contact with any of our mutual friends again--yes, it got to that point), I'm going to have to change my number for real so I don't look like a bona fide dickfaced liar. Which got me to wondering which cell phone carrier I'd switch to. Maybe an iPhone? Maybe a Blackberry? Maybe this this that when I realized:
shit girl, you crazy. Bitch was crazy, but you are just as bad. You are a total crazy enabler.

You, Karen, familiar with my dating and friendship histories, know this.
I am some delicious, endlessly regenerating fodder: luring them in and then keeping them around until they die or I finally have the guts to lie to them and then run away as fast as I can.

Whenever I think of the word fodder, I think of the game Harvest Moon. So many fond memories of so many hours wasted.

-Camille

Friday I went to Sandy Hook, a beach at the tip of New Jersey, with my forest ecology class to look at the holly (Ilex opaca) forests present almost impossibly close to the shore. The forests were absolutely glorious, had some of the most dense canopy covers we'd analyzed yet, and were filled with this STUPID understory thorny vine (Smilax rotundifolia) which every time I got snagged in, I'd yell "SNORLAX."
It was absolutely spectacular and throughout the trip my professor was obsessed with all of the edible plants/berries (of which there were many!) along the way and made sure to show us one of the most beautiful things I've seen yet,
Winged sumac leaves:
The leaves are composite alternate in formation, but are structured in a way that look simple and opposite. If you look carefully, you'll see that every little thing that looks like a leaf is, in fact, connected to its neighbors by more little leaf-appearing things. One full leaf is actually much larger and much more complex than it appears (composed of many little leaflets), and it's absolutely fantastic and mind-blowing.

Saturday I went to Long Island and went to the Brookhaven marina and then to... another beach with my friend Brian.
Do you realize how beautiful our hometown is? So beautiful! The tides had wiped out this perfect little ledge, and I kept imagining how, if we were much, much smaller, it would not be a stretch at all to imagine little homes carved out of the face of this wall.

"How believable does this look?"
Not believable at all. But please don't stop.

-Camille

Yesterday I was treated worse than I have ever been treated by anyone in my adult life.
I learned a very important lesson through this, however. Appearances are often not deceiving, and Aesop's fable of the scorpion and the frog is more true than we'd like to acknowledge.
You cannot blame the scorpion for acting in accordance with his nature, just as you cannot blame a child for behaving like a child, even when you most desperately wish he wouldn't.
Yesterday I was treated very badly by someone with whom I had tried to have a romantic relationship this past summer. I had been attracted to his delightful immaturity, his profound thoughtfulness, and his strange inability to relate to the real world. Nothing I did to him warranted the cruelty and complete disrespect which I was shown, but I cannot pretend that I am still upset. He was immature (not so delightful, in this case), he overthought everything, and he was completely unable to relate to or participate in the very real-world situation we had on our hands. His personality is wonderfully intriguing in most cases, but apparently not in all cases.
I was absolutely livid last night, but now I am okay. I am glad he spared me more wasted time, more hurt feelings, and more future confusion. I tried something new this summer, and it backfired. New rule: no children allowed. There is a reason why every single man I've ever loved or been attracted to or even had flings with thus far have been significantly older: because that's what works best for me.

I will still care for him affectionately, I've got some very fond memories of our experiences together, and I am overwhelmingly and completely happy to have our relationship done with!
Bob Dylan - Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

Kern ( I Want to Be Dylan ) Little | Myspace Video
So long, honey babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right

-Camille

In the window of Evolution

I like all of these things.

-Karen

Long live long hair

"Is it not wonderfully sexy the way our grandmothers, those women of the prairie, or concrete canyons, would braid their hair up in the morning and let their cowboys unravel them at night?"

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/24/fashion/24Mirror.html

I love this because I am devoted to my long hair. It makes me feel safe, feminine, mysterious, lovely. It shields me from bad smells, lascivious glances, and I fully understand the power of unleashing it from a tightly wound bun. And I will never, never be able to let it go, and when it turns grey, I'll do this:


-Karen

This picture of Michael Jordan is on the front page of Yahoo!. When I saw it, I immediately got aroused, thinking "damnnnnn, Farmer Hoggett Bill Clinton get it, baby."
Why did I think of Farmer Hoggett and Bill Clinton?

I've always wanted to marry a Farmer Hoggett, and I still do. That point is not up for discussion today. Other than <3 style="background-image: url("http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/E1aAqnqBOnE/hqdefault.jpg");" width="480" height="295">

I dream of him singing that to me while we both lay naked (maybe him still donning the jaunty chapeau?), our sweaty bodies intertwined and still, so as not to get scratched by the woolen blankets now sticking to our moist skin. And instead of feeding me a bottle, I'll probably be kissing his fingers and hands, or he mine. Aahhhh, man. Dreamy dreams.
My desire for James Cromwell and Farmer Hoggett are the same, by the way. When he played George on Six Feet Under, I also wanted him BAD. True blue grandpa crush over here.

-Camille

turnip @ the YMCA

-Karen

Turnip

-Karen

This is the most depressing thing I've seen in a while.

It is a LOT of butternut squash that I don't want to eat, a nearly empty carton of soymilk, a nearly empty bag of almonds, a nearly empty bag of flaxseed meal, and boring-ass quinoa. And some jam which I got for free but don't really want... What what what am I going to do with this squash? I overdosed last week and am just not feeling it anymore. Pasta, probably. That or I'll just eat it quickly while holding my nose. I am not a food waster and that is going to make this hard....
I'll keep you posted.

-Camille

PS

I love this song. It's been in my head for a year, and then Andy sang it on the office and made it even better.

-Karen

I like you, David Sedaris

Autumn makes me think of wood-paneled station wagons that smell faintly of smoke, shoes, and maybe buttery movie popcorn? I'm not absolutely sure on that last one. It makes me miss Bellport, because if little else, it did fall foliage pretty well. I love that fall is so promising, and spooky-- that wind on my face alone can bring thoughts of witches and graveyards, and that the brisk chill of the outside is heartily soothed by warm soup once I cross the threshold of home. I love that fall means the debut of scarves- which keep me warm as I'm walking outside and compulsively pulling the leaves from any hedges or branches my fingers can reach- all while reminding me of the spooky tale of the little girl whose head was attached to her body only by her scarf, and who died for her love, who killed her with his insatiable curiosity. Not a great love story, but a fantastically simple spooky story that still gives me occasional goosebumps.

-Karen

It's that kind of autumn night.

100th post.

-Camille

I feel like I should look like Carol Kane. When I imagine myself as that real woman where my personality is reflected in my physical self, it's always some sort of Carol Kane/Stevie Nicks hybrid. Seeing pictures of her makes me happy.


Do you do that, too? Whenever I think of my self--future, present, whatever--it's always as a Carol Kane. She's gardening, she's smoochin' her honey atop Matterhorn, she's reading a book on the porch, she's walking the dog. It's like in dreams where one character is "your mother" even though she looks NOTHING like your actual mother. There's this explicit, clear as day understanding and FEELING in you that she is, though. That's what I'm trying to explain right now.

I don't think she is the number one most beautiful woman, but I do think she is pretty and this connection I feel solely to her outward appearance (not even her voice- it is NOT HER, just her skin and hair and face-bones) is unreal.

-Camille

Yesterday my Forest Ecology lab was held in Black Rock Forest, where we measured every tagged seedling (recording its species, height, and diameter) and counted and identified every untagged seedling over 10cm in height. In 75x75m plots. In very very cold weather with too few layers on. I was frozen to the core (when I got home, bundling up and then taking a very long hot shower didn't even begin to thaw me out) but I got to appreciate the amazing fall foliage and be witness to the beauty of the changing Earth. So, for that I am grateful.

We saw this sweet little baby keeping himself warm underneath the leaf litter, snuggling up against a mushroom.


-Camille

Chris Hardwick hates dessert pie, and that makes me like Chris Hardwick even more. How endearing is his little boy+ I hate pie face? I don't know if I've mentioned this before (probably and almost definitely) but I don't like pie or other flaky pastries because the sensation of foods flaking off as I bite them is abhorrent to me. I didn't think I was going to be able to relate this to anything else that happened to me today, but ridiculously, I can. I discovered Fage yogurt today, and mixed with the honey in the side compartment, it tastes like cheesecake. Chinese people aren't big on yogurt, nor do a lot of us know what it is. I only do because of white people, but anyway, this yogurt is about to become the center of my universe. Cyndy and I have had a long standing failure to communicate when it comes to cheesecake, because she loves it, but the exterior terrain of cheesecake is just so awful to me. Now I never have to deal with it ever again, although previously I was dealing with this by not eating cheesecake at all. But voila, yogurt is delicious.

I went to a Ratatat concert on Saturday, something I was extremely apprehensive about since, at the last concert, all my shit was stolen, and I've spent many a night hoping that the person who did this to me would die in ways I won't describe in case this blog ever goes public. But this new Ratatat was amazing and cathartic, and Tyler protected me like a big papa bear the whole time, elbowing bitches in the face so that I could dance the night away. And, I picked up a free ratatat shirt that someone dropped and a flannel. Tyler got a new hat. We cleaned up.


As for Jamie, I can't even do justice to what I owe her. I'm so grateful that our unlikely pairing came to be, self absorbed, morose, and precocious me, and bright, whimsical, kind Jamie. She was so good for me because she was better than me, always coaxing me down from my storm of fury over some petty problem in my life. She and Jody really, really took care of me and made me a better person than I might have been. Jamie has actually known me since before I spoke English, when I didn't understand why anyone would let themselves experience the surely perilous death of the trampoline, and when I had no concept of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm glad every time I'm reminded that Jamie is still in my life, that her happiness and sincerity are as restorative to others as they are to me.


Lastly, here are some rambutans from my weekend

-Karen

I am sitting in a cold library room. My fingers barely work, so this will be short.
I am sick. You know this because we've discussed it before, but let me just say that when I get ill my mind goes somewhere else. Somewhere wonderful and far away, somewhere full of song and laughter and napping and talking at very high volumes. I rarely, rarely ever take drugs when I'm feeling poorly (I can't remember the last time I took an ibuprofen and that's all I've ever used to treat fever/aches/illness, besides doctor-prescribed antibiotics when I was younger and congestion-relief pills I took two years ago when I traveled all the way back to Long Island to make cake, only to find myself stuffed up and miserable. So I took the pills to clear it up, ate lots of raw garlic, gave myself a nosebleed, and managed to taste my delicious cake after all. Interesting experiment).

Anyway. I am sick and stumbled upon a picture of our mutual best-sister-friend, Jamie, and immediately started crying in the library remembering all of the times where her bubbly, altruistic, selfless love has saved me from a lot of pain. She doesn't help me work through problems: you do that. But she does help me realize that, outside of my problems, I can find love and joy in sources that are comfortable and familiar: sources that will remain comfortable and familiar to me for as long as she's around. I love her so much and I know you do too.
Also, she's so much fucking fun.

ALSO, I have eaten half a bag of Hall's Vitamin C drops and 14 cloves of raw garlic in the past 24 hours. I can't say "oh, it's working!" because I don't know how I'd feel if I hadn't done that. But the garlic does give instant relief (instant = half an hour-ish), so I feel good about that.
Kiss me, I bet I smell revolting. Luckily, I can't tell for sure.

Lastly. JAFAR! Brilliant! That's a villain I definitely would have overlooked but is one which probably evokes the most palpably dense, smoky, seductive, sensual, and sinister feelings of them all!

-Camille

Tyler and I went to the MAC cosmetics store on this very rainy, shloshy, wet day to check out their collaboration with Disney, inspired by Disney villains. Unfortunately, that only includes Maleficent, the Evil Queen, Cruella, and whoever the male villain is in the new frog princess movie that I did not see because I don't consider her a canon princess. I'd hoped that I would find something perfect in the Evil Queen or Maleficent collections, because they're the most badass/vixen-y villains, of course, and terrible as my wrath for humanity is, I do not support animal cruelty or the skinning of puppies. But as luck would have it, a lipstick in the Cruella collection fit me best, and it is called Heartless. On me, it looks like this
I'm not a lipstick person, or a makeup person in general, usually, but I love that I can wear a lipstick that brings me memories of my childhood and little eight year-old me plotting evil little schemes. I only wish they had incorporated other, certainly worthy, villains like Ursula/Vanessa(!), and even Jafar. And by the way, I've not forgotten that you were the best fucking Ursula I have ever seen in my life. True story.

-Karen

I came to this while spreading ointment on myself with my middle finger after having applied cream to my undereyes with my ring finger after after having eating peanut butter with my index finger, not having washed my hand once. It was not messy because I really do NOT use my fingers for anything besides their prescribed uses.

-Camille

My Friday lab for forest ecology took place at the Hutcheson Memorial Forest. It was not the best lab I've ever had because we had to analyze three different forests and it was super time consuming. This I only minded because it was pouring rain and I got two spiderbites which I had VERY VERY painful, itchy, swelly allergic reactions to. Because I am not allergic to anything, I was pretty anxiety-ridden the whole afternoon.
About three hours after the bites, when the pain was just starting to subside, the afternoon turned magical. We stumbled upon a ginormous patch of Laetiporus sulphureus and we took almost all of it back with us in every bag and rucksack on hand.
We must have harvested a good $350+ worth of the mushrooms and I cooked them up for dinner that night with a few friends, some whole wheat pasta, and two delicious salads (one standard, one with greens, jalapeno pepper, strawberries, almonds, and mint, HOMG).
They were without a doubt the best mushrooms I've ever eaten. I came home today after a bullshit day of procrastination and an ominously confusing physics review session and found a little stash in a paper bag at the bottom of my pack.
I immediately sauted them with garlic, olive oil, and onion and baby baby I am in heaven. I am eating them with some quinoa (so the mushrooms will last longer!) and I am genuinely considering becoming a wild mushroom forager in the future. This lucky stash found on ONE single trunk could very plausibly pay the rent for a month (if I didn't live alone in Manhattan) and what a fun way to make a living.

-Camille