First Snowfall

The past weekend: weird, slightly magical, and magically-realistic (if we use Kelly Link as our "magical realism" litmus, so, like, pretty, with fairy lights, but also dark and damn twisted) , and, to re-use an adjective already put into play here, magical.

(Apologies for the abundance of "magical", but it fits.)

The past few days:

-A memoir workshop taught by one of my favorite authors and one of the most important writers in culture right now, Stephen Elliott, who kicked me in the face, fortunately figuratively, to turn We Give Ourselves Habits In Order To Live from something that pulls few punches to something that both pulls no punches and actually exists out of necessity. (Shut up, all of that means something in my own head.)

-A former friend and I have parted ways. That's all that's going to be said, other than that I'll never be less than thankful for this person's time in my life. Fitting that it all has happened in my first year in New York.

-A holiday party at a gorgeous, open studio apartment in Williamsburg, also featuring Stephen Elliott, which I attended with a friend who bravely made drinks out of creamy liquors and found whiskey in the host's bar when I was concerned early on in the evening that all there was to drink was red wine (I only drink red wine in certain company-consider me the inverse of Lady GaGa). In addition to Stephen Elliott, the party contained approximately 25-30 people I'd never met before, and who were very much not at all interested in me.  This was fine, because as Stephen read from his The Adderall Diaries, imploring in a steady voice "Tell me what my problem is with women and I'll believe you", the first snowfall of my time in New York began.

This is a cameraphone picture my friend Marley took from the window of that apartment, as it was impossible in that moment not to feel at least a little enchanted. I moved to New York for this sort of thing but that doesn't stop every occurrence of art and beauty intersecting from creating a little bit of magic in its wake.

The snow fell harder and Stephen finished reading and while I was in line for the bathroom (which is always a weird thing to me at house parties because there's always a shower curtain and toothbrushes and those two things indicate the utter and absolutely personal in my eyes), the woman ahead of me commented to her friend "this book bores me, there was no adderall in what he read at all" and I wanted to say something so to shut myself up I texted Marley from the bathroom line. I don't think anyone noticed that my phone is a Sidekick LX, aka what 16 year old girls use while they're shopping at Icicle Works or Claires or Dreamy's or whatever that teen jewelry/piercing/bangles and hair scrunchies store is that's at every American mall.

-While all of this was happening-the snow, the holiday party, The Adderall Diaries, all of this which was my first New York snow and my first New York bookish apartment Christmas whatever, two of my best friends, Richy and Krystyn, were getting engaged. I have never been to a wedding or a funeral, and I realized that as I was congratulating them. I also realized that I think I've finally stopped judging my success based on if I'm attached to someone-that's a huge thing to realize.

-The realization that I need those boots, those hideous, thigh-high plastic galosh-boot hybrid things that New Yorkers have to deal with wetness and dampness and snow-ness. Why isn't a wardrobe winterizing subsidised by the government? I need sweaters, too. And something to keep my ears from getting cold, but not earmuffs-not unless they're headphone earmuffs. 

-The launch of "Rage Against The Dying Of The Light", my shoegaze/dreampop/cuddletech DJ monthly at The Bellhouse in Brooklyn, has been confirmed for Jan 7, 2010, 6PM.

When winter first started settling around New York, chilled and achy like the onset of flu, I was unable to function at the 4:30 P.M. pitch blackness. I mean, as I've already said-winter is nothing to fuck with. I began a daily mantra of "fuck the early darkness", and found a steady aural diet of dreamy, hazy music kept any mood fuckery at bay. When I pitched a night consisting of those sounds, warm drinks, and good company to the folks at Bellhouse, they met me 100% on the idea, 4AD records hopped on board to sponsor and now "Rage Against The Dying Of The Light" (sorry, in my heart it'll always be "fuck the early darkness" but f-bombs on flyers=a total no-no, unless you're, like, tacky) is a reality. You should come (no, really, click this, it's the facebook event and there's more info).

Both the first snowfall and the launch of "Rage Against The Dying Of The Light" make me want, no need, really, really need, to share this song: Piano Magic's "Snowfall Soon"

Ignore the cheesy visuals and take the audio for what it is, because it says better than I've been able to what the past few days have been like. Winter's nothing to fuck with in New York, true, but also that fucking snow is a tiny little taste of (yeah I'm saying it again) magic.

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