living in SF
Saturday was a spectacular day in San Francisco. I watched the Georgetown v. Marquette came on my laptop in my PJs and then headed out for a long walk in the sun. I walked from our house up to Sutro Tower, and down through Cole Valley. Then took a quick
St. Frances
I love sharing food. At any restaurant, whether it's encouraged or frowned upon, I'll try to eat family style. If I go out with you and we don't eat family style, I'll order something I like, but I'll spend the
writing
Ten days is the longest I've gone without updating this blog, so I'm sorry to anyone who's been following it. But it's a good reason I've been out of commission: it was my birthday last weekend, I'm trying
growing up
Maya came by with her poodle Royce to do laundry tonight. I guess she'd gone to yoga with St. Frances. Before, she went to a talk by Chip Conley on "Emotional Equations." Here are three she wrote down: 1. Anxiety = Uncertainty x Powerlessness 2. Despair = Suffering
living in SF
A while ago, Corin posted this Fran Lebowitz quote on his Facebook status: “When you leave New York, you are astonished at how clean the rest of the world is. Clean is not enough.” The same could easily be said about San Francisco. I spent all day Monday walking around
DC
My DC trip went exactly according to plan: Friday and Saturday I punished my liver; Sunday was my pivot day and chance to hang out with my old roommates; and Monday I had business meetings. I walked all over downtown Monday, carrying my heavy wool coat over my arm because
Corin
After all the drinking, Sunday was a refreshing and welcome reset. I took a cab from Corin and Zadie's hotel room to my old boss's Dupont apartment. She's a tiny Lebanese woman who loves yoga, wine and painting. When I worked for her, we
DC
So, Friday I spent nine hours drinking Busch Light. Saturday I woke up at Lula's and we went straight to Dale's Chinatown loft to pregame. Lula made me eat some cheerios because this was the rest of my complete breakfast: * Two cans of Bud Light * A
religion
After a long spate of nonfiction or mainstream lit, I decided to treat myself to a sci-fi novel for the holidays. I'm in the middle of A Canticle for Leibowitz, written in 1959 about a post-apocalyptic America, and just came across this exchange between a priest and a
DC
Scott and I landed at Dulles at 4:00 p.m. and not an hour later we were at the Tombs drinking. Shady was there waiting for us in a booth with two pitchers of Busch Light on the way. They were the first of nearly 20. We ordered some
DC
Since I started freelancing, I haven't taken a real vacation. Well, starting tomorrow I'm taking three days off to visit friends in DC. Already I feel more relaxed. Just clearing out my inbox and telling everyone I'll be unreachable has been an amzing feeling.
banality
We have a greasy burrito place in our neighborhood, Rancho Grande. It's not really good for anything but drunk food. I've pretty much only ever gotten burritos there when it was late. Last night, walking back from my other date, I'd had a couple