As I look back on last week, I realize that all the high drama took place within me. Every movement of the plot was in minor revelations instead of action and concrete things. That makes writing about last week a bit of a struggle. I spent most of it lost in my own thoughts. But, below is everything else aside from my fog, frustrations and inner turmoil...
Monday night was my usual bi-weekly writing group. Tuesday, I went to the gym for the first time in a year. I ran on the treadmill next to a man who spit on his machine during breaks, and two rows away from a man running in a business suit and dress shoes. There was no heat in the bathroom and none of the toilets had tissue. I was sore by Wednesday.
Alistair's sister was in town and on Wednesday we went and had drinks with her at the Crosby Street Hotel (one of my favorite Soho places) and then dinner at Estela. The dishes were so interesting I was making mental notes of each one because food descriptions are my favorites to read and write. Spiced almonds were first, then burrata in potato flower sauce, crab with butter, squid ink fried rice, ricotta dumplings with shiitake mushrooms that were sliced like little discs, endive with cheese and breadcrumbs, lamb ribs and chocolate pie and sweet potato. I had a wonderful time, and woke up Thursday with a hangover. Despite this, Thursday was beautiful. By the end of the day the weather reached 60 degrees, and I decided that my passeggiata season had come. (On Thursdays in the summer I usually take a long walk after work.) I went for a juice and Alistair joined me for a bit. We walked together to the subway and I continued west just for the sake of exploring.
Friday night was bittersweet -- I hate using that word in my writing but it is the only appropriate word. Alistair and I attended Philippa's art and performance show downtown. The party would be to see her newest collaboration, but also to say goodbye. Philippa is moving from New York this week, and I'm too saddened to even write about it. "Who else will be comedic relief on my blog?!" I asked her. Thinking back, almost every firecracker quote has come from her and her spot on humor. And all my summer plans! My summer plans were usually based of Philippa's very well-researched summer to-do list. Earlier in the week she emailed me my first message to her via Craigslist when I wanted to join her writing group. Who knew we'd be traveling together and being such close friends for many years later?
We couldn't stay long at the event and I had to say goodbye to Philippa earlier than I hoped. I pouted a bit and hugged. "You won't be far though," I noted but I wanted to cry.