Monthly Archives: November 2005

Indri in New York City

1 Reply | Posted by Patrick Calder on in friends

indriani
I spent last night in NYC, with Indri. Two words to describe Indri: disgustingly cute. You know… in every possible way. She’s got chipmunk cheeks, big anime eyes, and bouncy little outfits to match a bouncy little personality. She rambles on about anything and everything, and still comes across as fascinated with life and her surroundings. And those occasions when she doesn’t seem to know what to say, a look overtakes her face like she just stepped in pudding. In the nine or ten years I’ve known her, she’s never once let on that she’s anything more than sweet and polite, with a little bit of innocent mischievousness, which I take as reality, since it would be a shame to believe anything else. In her presence, I can’t bring myself to spout my more lurid innuendo that someone like Sara might experience. It would be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa. I can’t even be as stubbornly negative as I occasionally still tend to be.
I swear… she’s a living pixie.
(There, Indri. NOW you can be embarrassed.)
Hopped the Washington Deluxe each way, which turned out much better than expected. I’d heard them referred to as the “pauper’s limos“. But I personally think it’s a pretty amazing service, for only $35 round trip. Top of the line busses, that make Grayhounds look like mobile shithouses. Clean and well kept up. Televisions with movies at the start of each ride. convenient pick-ups and drop-offs in the heart of each city. Couldn’t get all that if you drove your own self.
New York City always fascinates me. I came from New York to DC almost exactly 8 years ago. And although I’ve dug out my own niche, I’ve never fit perfectly here. And each time I visit New York, I’m reminded why. While I grew up in Geneva, somewhere up in central NY, there’s a certain ruggedness of personality, about any New Yorker, no matter where they call home. And no where does this essence seem more concentrated than New York City. It’s especially visible in the women, most of whom have the air of just having castrated a potential mugger with their umbrella, and are now on their way home to slip into pink, fuzzy slippers. Where women in DC confronted by lurid behavior may go the other way, cry, and sue, (not necessarily in that order), the same New York woman would probably grab the man by the balls and threaten to remove them manually if the assailant doesn’t grow a brain cell. You know, it’s there in the men too, but harder to notice since aggressiveness is more universally common in them. I remember a line from Crocodile Dundee that was supposed to be funny, about how New York City must be the friendliest place on earth, if 20 million people all wanted to live together. Joke or not, there’s a tiny bit of truth in there. I don’t know if you can call it friendliness. But the residents all seem to realize they’re packed in like rats, and naked hostility and apathy aren’t going to help anyone. New York City is really one of those places you can only experience first-hand.
Oh… yeah… happy birthday, Indri.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!

tough

Leave a comment | Posted by Patrick Calder on in intangibles

I don’t go more than two days, without thinking of something I want to write here. Some of them are so prolific and meaningful, that it almost makes me feel intelligent. Some of it’s just pointless crap that’s pissing me off. Okay… some of the pointless crap ends up in the “…bites” section below. But that’s what it’s there for. All those personally meaningless little thoughts or stories. Trying to preserve the real estate at the top for something more personal. But part of my problem is that I’m my own worst audience. No one could hate my work as much as I do. Wether it’s something I design, or some picture I took, or some words I wrote… as long as I know they’re mine, I’m incredibly harsh towards them. And often when I’m thinking about writing, it’s as I walk around town. In just a block or two, I’ll have an entire entry written in my mind. And even assuming I do remember it by the time I get home, I’ll already start picking it over, and editing it to death. My best writing is stream of consciousness. Thinking with my fingers, I guess.
I mentioned design. Yay, I’m a designer! Even started my own studio. And ya know… design is really fucking hard for me. Long before I get to the above mentioned critiquing of my own work… it’s hard. Somewhere along the way, my mind decided that when it’s time to be professional, my otherwise highly creative thought processes go pfft… out the window. I have an extremely hard time getting into the mental space where I can do design work, as well. And when I travel? Forget it. No work I’ve ever done on the road was worth shit. I’m just obsessive enough to worry about every project. Each new job means that every drop of my energy, concentration, and … you know… brain juice, goes into that effort, for at least 4 days. It inevitably ends with me staring at an email telling myself to press Send so that I won’t be able to make any more changes. And as soon as I hear that whoosh of an outgoing email, a 20 pound weight drops from my chest. I bounce up from the chair, smiling, and looking for something to eat and someone to talk to. (Unfortunately, my friends have real jobs, and don’t want to talk at 3 in the afternoon or 2 in the morning). If I can keep a string of design work going, it kind of eases up. I can stay in the mental place I need for doing that work. The ideas continue to flow. But once I’ve shut it off… I have to go to all the work again of getting back there.
God, I so much prefer being a manager.
This, folks, by the way, is one of the most beautiful women I know:
stunning sara
That is all.
Hmmm… since the Juliette and the Licks show… what have I been doing? When the hell was that show? Mid-October, I think. So there was Halloween, of course. Went to Autumn’s party early in the evening, followed by chiarOscuro around 11. Both parties went better than expected, with opportunities for me to talk to several people I don’t get to see anywhere near as much as I’d like to. Think I’ve finished my last painting, since then, as well. Well… mostly finished. Still some small details I want to touch up. May send it to New York when it’s done, since that’s where the unwitting models live. Went to the Uruguayan Embassy for an art auction by a friend of a friend. Jill visited last weekend. No change since college. Still a tiny little ball of energy crying out “love me!”. Her visit led to me seeing Regina and Raphael for the first time in 5 (!) years. They’re still way too fucking cute.
Lot of work. Not a lot of money. I’m tired. In, oh, so many ways. But still… I’m here. And that something to start with.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!