I finally signed up for an unlimited movie pass today (yes – unlimited movies – 16 euros a month – yes!), and stumbled into Donnie Darko. I hadn’t heard of it at all. Really quite good. The website is also kinda cool, though it’s a bit more sci-fi than the film.. although the film was a little sci-fi.. but i probably didn’t notice cause that’s not so much my bag..
anyway, beware the avalanche of movies heading to this blog.
So i had my first french class yesterday. It’s been a while since i was in any sort of “learning atmosphere”. The teacher was dressed in head to toe leather, But aren’t french teachers always sort of wacky in some way?
All we did was take a test. I don’t know if it was an entrance exam, or like an exam for the teacher to know what our level was, but it blew. I conjugated some verbs, picked out some articles, and wrote a fake letter about a fake french family. Memories of high school hurtled back into my psyche. Yuk. I made my french family highly dysfunctional, with the father harboring a secret fear that the children were not really his. All in the present tense bien sur.
School: i forgot whatta pain it was…
I went to lunch at the cheap Turkish restaurant near the office. It’s always good. I like the Turkish place because the food is always better than i expect it to be. I like the crowd, which is half hospital workers, and slightly trashy french high school students. I like hearing the guys shout across the room in Turkish to each other. Because i only spoke Turkish when i was very young, and only really remember it in my early childhood in Orange County, it’s like this childhood secret for me. I am only accustomed to hearing it out of the mouths of people i am related to. When i hear it at the restaurant, i alternately feel like i’m in on a big secret, and someone stole my secret.
The men who work there know i’m Turkish and all have varying degrees of crushes on me. My obvious struggle with both the Turkish and French language only endears me to them further i am guessing. One guy came over and asked me if i wanted a cafe. I said “Non merci”, but a minute later he was back with a cafe and told me it was on him. I thanked him, embarrassed, and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I woke up with my left eye practically swollen shut this morning, it’s still barely open. i scrubbed my face hard in attempt to make my eyes open, so my skin is shiny and a bit raw, from the scrubbing and biting wind today. I’m leaning on the counter next to the table, my head leaning on my folded forearm, my whole body crouched over my book. I have become The Shy Quiet Girl. What do people see in The Shy Quiet Girl? I find her a total bore. Certain men like The Shy Quiet Girl. I am highly suspicious of them. Who wants to talk to someone who has nothing to say in return? And why?
You finally screw up the courage to ask the hot thing for his/her digits. S/he gives it with a smile. Life is great, you’re humming a tune to yourself on the way home. You give it a few days, prepare yourself by the phone, dial, and get This. Ouch!
via yesterday’s All Thing’s Considered
More crumbs:
“These animals do get stressed when, for instance, they are being chased by polar bears,” said Naomi Rose, marine mammal scientist. Funny how the meaning of “stress” differs so much between humans and animals. I do get stressed, for instance, when my stapler jams (oh and chased by polar bears too).
And since today the blog is a bunch of tiny crumbs under your chair… The sunsets outside my office window are strikingly beautiful every single day.
[sigh] This photo just really made me miss New York. What is it about Jami’s stuff that always does that to me?!?
Who is this Greta Van Sustren person? And why is everyone talking about her plastic surgery? I’m starting to feel like i am really far away from the states…
I found this article, Clip-On Tie: The Diary of a New York Art Museum Security Guard, via The Morning News. It’s sort of nice, small. It reminded me of a thing i had with once with a boy the summer after i graduated college. He was a painter, and also a security guard for the Met. That was a compelling combination. Creative yet practical, and in uniform. I have a funny memory of him one morning spit shining his shiny guard shoes, and asking me if i had an iron for his shirt. I didn’t. I did lend him black socks which he was missing. It was cute.
There’s something about waking up with someone who has to put on a uniform. It’s really sweet in a sort of odd way. I used to have to do it when i was waiting tables at a fish restaurant the upper west side, creatively named, Fish Restaurant. They made us wear a white oxford shirt, black pants, black shoes, and this awful awful fish tie. But i remember leaving my then boyfriend’s place in that getup to go work the Sunday brunch shift. I could tell he thought it was cute. Regardless, i could not have hated that fish tie any more than i did.
During one of those brunch shifts one of my partners in fish tie torture leaned into my ear and whispered, “You know what?”
“What?” i said, probably chewing on my pen.
“We smell like fish all the time and we don’t even realize it.”
Oh my god. She was probably right. After that day i started sniffing myself obsessively, to make sure there weren’t whiffs of Broiled Rainbow Trout i had forgotten to scrub off. Yuk. Computer jobs certainly have their upsides.
A small plug for this month’s Story in Harper’s by Antonya Nelson. I’d never heard of her previously, but was enchanted by this little story about a break-up and really bad plumbing in her parents’ house.
On my Google search i also found a list of her top 20 favorite books. How neat.
New Angeles Monthly, June 2008
Weekend America, March 30, 2008
Los Angeles Times, March 13, 2008
Los Angeles Times, March 6, 2008
Nil by Mouth is written by Neille Ilel. Neille is a writer, reporter and user interface specialist in Los Angeles. If you think that's a lot, she's also got a host of meandering sidelines including improv comedy, tennis, cooking, drawing and thinking about learning to play the guitar.
Nil is her given name. It's a long story.
E-mail her here:
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