Saturday, September 13, 2003
monosyllabic breakdown of a friday night:

fall clothes shopping spree: good.
not eating dinner: bad.

tickets to swanky ICP opening: good.
actual swanky ICP opening: bad.

hot date to swanky opening: good.
hot date ending early enough to go out drinking with other friends: bad.

having friends: good.
having friends that say, "bitch, come drink vodka with us!": bad.

drinking straight vodka: good.
doing handless shots: bad, bad, bad.

swearing you'll never drink again: good.
knowing you will anyway: priceless.

love, krissa .... 9:59 PM ... link!

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Friday, September 12, 2003
not that i actually believe in this stuff, natch...

"VIRGO: The largest meeting of world religious leaders in history was virtually unreported by the media. The top-secret event transpired in 2002. Leading representatives from every major faith gathered in Italy. They issued a "Decalogue for Peace," which denounced violence committed in the name of God and religion, and declared, "We commit ourselves to those who suffer poverty and abandonment and who have no voice." The media deemed other stories more important than this unprecedented breakthrough, like Mike Tyson getting his boxing license, John Walker Lindh making a court appearance, and the Enron hearings beginning. A comparable marvel is unfolding in your own life, and you haven't noticed it yet. "

rob brezsny

... but having my life compared to a cataclysmic new global peace movement is pretty wicked cool. maybe it's a new pony.

love, krissa .... 7:42 PM ... link!

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drinks all 'round!

i mentioned the
beer. i mentioned the friends, and more friends, and i mentioned nookie [no, you fools, i'm not going to link to the nookie.]

but i didn't mention the fabulousness and fierceness and all around kitten-cub cuteness that was kate. my friends were all charmed. i was charmed. she's funny and witty and smart and she's got a GREAT set of legs and has this adorable non-smoking way of smoking a cigarette. she's now my reason to actually put on my jet-setting cap and fly out to california one of these days.

in short: "kate! making new york brighter since three days ago."

love, krissa .... 6:28 PM ... link!

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thanks, UNIVERSE.

one minute, i'm flying high from a night of beer, friends, and nookie. the next minute,
a hero falls.


update: as everyone has pointed out to me every five minutes, i'm fully aware that john ritter also died. this is sad, since his erstwhile slumpingly-stun-gunned career seemed to be taking at least a half-hearted attempt at life, and he was younger than cash. however, this doesn't mute the fact that cash dying left me with a GIANT CASH-SHAPED HOLE IN MY HEART and ritter, more of a passing moment of concern that the world is now less rittertastic than it once was. capiche?

love, krissa .... 5:11 PM ... link!

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Thursday, September 11, 2003
open love letter to the naked city

dear new york city,

i met you when i was a young child, too young to understand the immensity of your beauty, but i loved you nonetheless the moment i laid eyes on you. i remember the moment, at the age of seven, when my brother drove me over the george washington bridge. it was crisp summer day, an egg-fried-on-the-sidewalk day, and you looked pearlescent, shimmering like a dying man in the desert's famous last mirage. i looked at the zippertooth edge of your skyline and thought, one day that'll be home.

new york, i love your streets. i love the thumping beat, the continuity of the rivers of asphalt that connect every new yorker, that connect harlem to the upper west side to hell's kitchen to chelsea. the corridors that weave through downtown, then snake out of that jumble into the quaint lanes of the west village. i love the endless straightness of park avenue, when you look north and it seems that the end of park avenue must be the end of the world. i love the race-car curves of FDR, and the river promenade of the west side highway. your streets are your arteries, your throbbing veins, the constantly moving highways of your life force.

i love your buildings, new york. the majestic originals, sure - the chrysler with its delicate silver latticework and the almost coy way it deflects sunlight, the empire state building in all of its solid soaring thereness, nonchalantly ignoring all the other soaring buildings of new york, knowing it's been there since the beginning. but i love your other buildings, as well. the gorgeous gothic of the natural history museum. the white splendor of the met. the grumpy utilitarianism of the pan am building. the modernistically slanted citibank building. and the nameless buildings, as well. the line of wildly different facades that make up the west side of the park - like grandmamas jostling to watch their children in the park. the over-the-top quaintness of the west village brownstones. the whistling canyons of downtown, with their anonymous towering dominance. your buildings are the curves and peaks of your essence.

i love, most of all, your people. i love their tough shells and the kindness and humanity they think they're hiding. i love catching the flow on one of your streets on a crowded sunday, new york, and simply moving with the people. here, on your streets, i may walk ten blocks with a complete stranger and most likely never see them again, but we've shared a block of our lives. every interaction on these streets, however insignificant, comes with an unspoken contract. i live here, you say to your fellow stranger, and so do you. we may have nothing else in common, but we hold different parts of the same thread in this crazy life. people you may never want to associate with, you still rub elbows with on the subway. i have stood closer to people on the subway than i have to some lovers. does it matter? no. we're different looking parts of the same intricate latticework that is new york. sometimes i stand on your streets and watch your family go by, and my mind can't handle the beauty and complexity and sheer volume of this enormous tribe. your people, new york, are your crowning jewels. we stand here every day and say, "take away the rest and we're still new yorkers."

thank you, new york. for a girl who never left her bags in one place long enough for the contents to settle, this september makes five years that you've graciously let me call you home. sometimes i think i don't deserve you. and sometimes i think you don't deserve me. we're lovers that way. but all i need to do is leave the city, and then humbly cross one of your sprawling bridges, look at the zippertoothed, jagged beauty of you, sunning yourself in this inprobable, almost inhospitable bend in a river, and i know you've still got me hooked.

i love you.

love, krissa .... 5:21 PM ... link!

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wish, granted

who's strolling through the park with a certain
jet-setting blogdarling, followed by dinner at patsy's on the east side, followed by sloshy drinks in the east village?

why, i am, darlings!

jealous, mark?

love, krissa .... 12:17 AM ... link!

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Wednesday, September 10, 2003

today is a brisk, sunny day in the big apple. it feels like autumn. so i've celebrated by pulling the
tried-and-true clompers out from hibernation, and am turned out full quirky-new-england-prep-school style. studious and sexy! complete with kick-pleat jean skirt, sweepy bangs, and wholesome smile.

now all i need is a late-afternoon walk in the park with a cup of hot cocoa! care to join?

love, krissa .... 8:10 PM ... link!

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reason i love fulminous #4259

when i say something incredibly emotionally healthy, that he's been trying to get me to face for months now, this is the conversation we have:

fulminous: CUE THE BAND!!
petithiboux: band?
ph: what band?
ful: And the PARADE!!
ph: i get a BAND?
ph: and a PARADE?!
ph: will there be CONFETTI!?!?
ful: And the clowns are ALL doing CARTWHEELS and the TROMBONE PLAYERS are all DANCING and the GIRLS WITH FLOWER PETALS are throwing all their FLOWER PETALS.

see, people, this is the kind of positive reinforcement that makes my friends BETTER THAN A THERAPIST.

love, krissa .... 6:46 PM ... link!

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banners of... YORE!

as i contemplate the upcoming redesign [autumn '03], i went trawling through the old banners that used to grace the pages of your beloved pH.

head over to the ever-useful deuxieme hiboux and
check it out.

love, krissa .... 12:44 AM ... link!

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Tuesday, September 09, 2003
artsy fartsy

one of the best things about autumn is new york is all the fantastic art shows that crop up in chelsea and around town. if you live in new york and you don't spend at least one fall saturday wandering from gallery to gallery, you should move to iowa where they don't have free art exhibits by daring and exciting artists.

since photography is my bread and butter as well as my passion, here are some shows i'll be trooping to this month.

for that cutting-edge feel, try:

jeff brouws at robert mann gallery

bertien van manen at yancey richardson gallery

timelessly amazing artists:

constantine manos at leica gallery

pl dicorcia at pace/macgill gallery

bruce davidson at the new howard greenberg gallery [midtown]

hip retrospectives:

berenice abbott at laurence miller gallery

paul himmel at keith de lellis gallery

other cool stuff:

some amazing sculptures by richard stankiewicz, at the zabriskie gallery

frederic brenner's jewish journey at the BMA

and just so those california types don't accidentally realize that the world revolves around new york, pH commands you to catch shelby lee adams at fahey/klein gallery.

love, krissa .... 11:16 PM ... link!

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department of redundancy department file #4523:

telling your bed-partner to "fuck me, baby!" while engaged in makin' whoopie.

love, krissa .... 6:51 PM ... link!

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the mating game

as a rule, i don't buy into the whole soulmate charade. this comes from my deep-seated fear of anyone telling me that life is predestined [see: pH's early disenchantment with organized religion]. i think it's the most frightening depths of laziness to assume that there's one other person, aimlessly floating around the cosmos, waiting for you to walk into the pet store and snatch him/her off the shelf clearly marked "____'s soulmate".

love isn't a one-stop shopping trip. love isn't looking into a complete stranger's eyes and seeing your future generations, i don't care what those
snivelling morons at ABC tell you. spending the rest of your life with someone is a matter of conscious choice, it's an effort, it's a wonderful but complicated decision. choice is the key word. soulmate-theory implies that you'll effortlessly bump into your destiny as long as you keep walking forward. what depraved laziness.

no, i don't believe in soulmates.

that said, josh lyman, you know where to find me.

love, krissa .... 5:48 PM ... link!

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Monday, September 08, 2003
and on the seventh day she...

...planned to study, do laundry, clean house, bake yummy goods, and generally be productive busybee.

...ended up reading salman rushdie novels all day and listening to NPR, only stopping to drink tea and eat cookies.

and she saw how it was, and said, it is good.

love, krissa .... 3:23 AM ... link!

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Sunday, September 07, 2003
no longer krafty

today, i grew up a little more. feeling nostalgic and lazy while perusing my local deli, i decided to buy some kraft mac'n'cheese. [the original, not the deluxe, you philistines.] excited for my ezfood trip down memory lane, i switched in rumpled pjs, popped in a season 4 buffy tape, and curled up on the couch with my cheesy bowl of goodness.

i ate three bites, looked down at my food, and thought, "what the hell is this crap?"

then i went into the kitchen and cooked up a quick stir fry.

looks like i'm getting old.

love, krissa .... 9:12 AM ... link!

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