Emchap’s Shit from the Internet 6/27/18 🍠
I spent the last few days in New York for work, which I do now once a quarter. It is very weird to get a small glimpse at New York each season before returning home, in part because each time I think that "oh, maybe it isn't so bad!" but of course that's because I'm playing tourist and—for the week that I'm normally there (this time was only a few days)—I have a two-block walking commute to my office, and don't have to grocery shop or go to the gym or take the cat to the vet or any of the 800 things that New York made harder for me.
That said, it was a good trip. My first night in town I went to my boss's apartment on the Upper West Side for a party for the remote employees (plus one of my teammates, who brought a key lime pie to compensate for not actually being a remote employee) and it had one of the most lovely porches I've ever seen and certainly the loveliest that I've seen in New York. It was a reminder that I do work with really lovely and interesting people, which is hard to remember all the time, sometimes, since remote work does sometimes narrow one's view of one's colleagues to just the work-orietned parts.
The second night in town (after catching up with two friends who will quite possibly no longer live in New York by the next time that I am there, which is the nature of being friends with people who live in New York) I went to Shabushabu Macaron, a restaurant that I went to on Helen Rosner's twitter-wide recommendation, and it was magical. It's a little tiny restaurant (eight seats, all at the counter) and one prix-fixe menu, which the chef and her assistant cook for you and serve. The only people there are the two women who work there and then the other diners. The food was small and beautiful and involved a variety of sauces that overwhelmed me entirely; I had a pie slice of handmade silken tofu boiled in broth and served to me with olive oil and smoked salt that entirely changed my understanding of what the point of tofu might even be. It was wonderful.
The last night, I met up with my sister to See A Show. She (an enterprising young person who works in the arts) has seen everything currently on Broadway absent possibly Evan Hansen for less than $60 a ticket; after a failed attempt to get rush tickets for Once On This Island, we wound up snagging cheap seats at Carousel. (This particular production has a black male lead for the first time in a Broadway production, which is cool; the actor is truly stupendous. The choreography was done by the choreographer for the New York Ballet and so of course was amazing.) I did know the plot of Carousel going in, so was surprised to discover that it is From A Particular Time wrt its feelings about, you know, hitting your wife. So that was an enjoyable—if sort of disorienting—experience.
Today Kennedy announced his retirement from the Supreme Court, and of course it feels entirely like the world is becoming unfixably broken and that Roe will almost certainly be overthrown. I wrote after my mom diedabout how strange it was to have an emotional experience of normal life ups and downs day-to-day, while also dealing with a background horrible howl of anger and grief and unhappiness, because my mom had died but like also sometimes I went on a really good date and sometimes I needed to buy groceries and work had to happen.
This week feels like the same thing on a more global scale. I had a really good week! My performance review went really well! I'm seeing Janelle Monáe tomorrow! Abortion is functionally illegal in many parts of the country and my country's government has chosen to enact a variety of unfathomably cruel policies fed by dipshit, racist fascists and the political party I previously worked for is so unfathomably weak-willed that they keep calling for concessions that will lead to worse outcomes for everyone! It's an awful sort of nauseous feeling, all the time, and I am protected by race and class and personal wealth and gender presentation. It is hard not to want to just curl up in a ball.
Shit to read
I live alone, and I enjoyed this Buzzfeed article about one of my favorite books on the subject of doing so. (Live Alone And Like It, written in 1936, is still funny and strange and quite useful.)
I am too young to remember the Brandon Teena story as it originally broke, and appreciated this revisiting of the ways in which the original reporter feels that she fucked it up, and how.
This Dana Schwartz piece on the ways in which we culturally reward and recognize some eating disorders while treating others as punchlines is great.
Stephanie Beatriz is a treasure.
I loved this set of paintings from a wedding.
Always read Jaya Saxena.
I loved this Bitter Southerner piece (end of sentence) about a burger chain that almost became the next KFC.
I am not an observant Jew, but I did profoundly enjoy this just quietly vicious evisceration of a bad critique of progressive Judaism; it is worth reading.
Lindy West on how we talk about bodies is a must-read.
Shit to eat
Miss one flight, to DC, when you are in fifth grade. Nothing bad will happen. You'll be rebooked on the next flight with your family.
Nonetheless, internalize this.
Also, be in 5th grade when 9/11 happens and the airline security process is completely overhauled.
Have a maybe-undiagnosed anxiety Thing and funnel all of it to airport security.
As a result, make being 3 hours early to the airport part of your personality.
Sign up for Global Entry.
Still get to the airport 3 hours early even though it now takes you actually 5 minutes to go through security.
Decide that you've now been made fun of this enough times and by enough people that you should perhaps revisit this.
Book a flight back home for 6pm on a Wednesday, leaving from Newark.
Remember that Newark has a truly garbage Alaskan terminal you don't want to spend time in.
Leave from your office for Penn Station a mere two (2!) hours before the flight leaves.
Hop onto New Jersey transit, and over to Newark.
Take the air train.
Realize that you have in fact half an hour before your plane begins to board, which is exactly enough time to order a veggie sub at Jersey Mike's before security, because you know the terminal has no good dining options.
Order the sub. Make sure to get pickles.
Bring the sub with you through security.
Arrive at your gate, 15 minutes before the flight boards, no one having died.
Enjoy your sub.
Shit to listen to
Fuck, man, I don't know. I liked this cover of "What a Wonderful World."
Shit to buy
Donate to Jane's Due Process.
I bought this romper. You should too.