Calm

A mess in Chelsea

Sitting in a Starbucks in Chelsea with my pale laptop and some lukewarm camomile tea. The gentle liquid sits inside the unpredictable red lipstick-stained lid and I feel for the tea. I'm embarrassed to share space with this lid.The red looks less like lipstick and more like crayon. Like...when I had my head turned to eyeball the pretty gay boys that frequent this joint, some parent-less child whipped out his (or her) box of colors and in an angry whim, just went to town on my biodegradable container.

This is a photo of my cousin Jibz. She's a performance artist. She doesn't normally look like this is real life. (I swear.) The question is, what's my cup's excuse?

It's the cup's fault.

Plans

It's been too long again since I've posted a new entry. I go through phases, my friends. Sometimes I feel like documenting every moment of my existence (not quite every moment, of course) and other times, I prefer to be quiet and keep things to myself. This is not one of those times, however.

I had big plans to cook a healthy veggie lunch with: kale (my favorite vegetable) and potatoes (my favorite complex carb) and green chickpeas (yes, green) and some tahini dressing and yeah, but when I walked into the kitchen and saw the items in my fridge that were just ready-to-go (avocado and crackers), I was like, "Screw the cooking, I'm wanna eat now." So I ripped open the avocado (didn't even use a knife) and dipped some flaxseed crackers right inside the vegetable (well, avocados are technically a fruit, but it seems weird to just call them a fruit without going through all of this weird explanation). The whole process (prep time and eating) took me five minutes, tops. So much for chopping, seasoning, mixing and cooking while listening to Enya-like music via Pandora. Plan #1, a bust.

Second plan was to go to a Bikram-style yoga class at Yoga to the People. I got all my bags ready with extra clothes (check), a snack (check), water (check), phone (check), some lipstick and eyeshadow (check), and hmm...that's it. I walked in the rain for 6 blocks (no umbrella) to the studio on West 27th Street and was very happy to get there 30 minutes early. I pushed the button for the elevator and while waiting I thought about how I was gonna make use of the extra time upstairs: Maybe I'd buy a mat (instead of renting one)? Do some pre-stretching before the official stretching? And and and. I pushed the button inside the lift (I'm British today) for the 3rd floor. I stared at the numbered buttons in front of me and while reaching into my bag looking for my wallet (which contains my unlimited yoga pass and cash to rent (or buy) a mat and towel). By the time I reached the 2nd floor the smile on my face quickly changed to a look of irritation. I realized I left my wallet on my bed at home. I could see the turquoise wallet in my mind's eye just taunting me. It was as big as the Flatiron building in my head. It was like: "You're an idiot, Jona. I mean, how can you miss me, I'm bright *turquoise*. The only other color that would be more visible would be neon fuchsia. Anyway..."  As soon as the elevator door opened to the studio, I immediately pushed the "door close" button with a bowed head. I made my way back downstairs. Fuck! I stepped back outside into the dark rainy streets and walked home with a little less pep in my step. When I got back to my apartment, I decided to clean and do laundry and made an effort to exaggerate my bending over and reaching ups (in a yoga-like way) when reaching for clothes and putting away clutter so I'd at least get SOME exercise today.

Plan number three? Go to a cooking class/party tonight at the New York Open Center at 7pm. Let's hope all goes well.

Wish me luck.