The Bazaar Around the Corner

Last night, despite paralyzing jet lag, I grabbed dinner with a friend at a Moroccan restaurant on the UWS: Shalel Lounge. 

Rose petals lined an iron stairwell down into the lounge, which was really a cross between a bomb-shelter and a middle eastern bazaar. We sat side-by-side on velvet cushions, facing three, French-kissing couples. I sipped Tempranillo and grazed on tuna bric, leaning back onto my elbows from time to time, relaxed by the dimly lit laughter.

Intimate, strange, savory. 

A New York Tuesday kind of place.

Exile

“You shall leave everything you love most: this is the arrow that the bow of exile shoots first."

-- Dante, “Paradiso”


Great feature on NYTimes Opinionator on Exile.

Love by Urdu

Urdu poem...

"I have loved you my whole life
And while I have waited for you,
Oh how many people I have loved."

-Told by professor Singh

Singapore Visit, Feeling Lushy

I'm in sunny Singapore, learning a lot about services operations management. My notes are littered with one-liners from the prof.

Fuschia orchids are drooping from every corner of this place.
Green palm branches stretch up into the blue sky, against a background of other green, full, tall trees. No matter where I go here, I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a lush forest.

All My Stories Are Told

"And ten years later, would I have been compelled to write a memoir about that time in my life? Or would I have felt that I’d already told the story by posting it as my status update?"

From "A Memoir is Not a Status Update" by Dani Shapiro, The New Yorker

That's a good question. 
When Facebook and Instagram give us immediate relief / comfort / encouragement / excitement,  what's left to write about in 50 years. 

Our stories have all been told.

Nevermind the Leg Room

You can't predict the future.

I read a great story today, written by a woman in her 60s. She was vivacious and full of fun. 

I'm in the Emirates Airlines lounge, headed to Singapore via Dubai. My boss and I are an incredible duo. We can solve anything, just give us a few seconds and a few iced cortados.

I'm thinking of him, a lot, as I prepare to embark. We talked about this trip. Can't help wondering what he's doing this weekend. It's hard to leave someone you care about in an instant.

It's easy to say goodbye, though. You just decide (cock the gun), begin to speak (aim), and deliver the words (shoot).

But the weeks after can be strange. The heart is full of mischief. Burdened with longing and irresponsible loyalties. I only get nostalgic at dusk and when I eat sushi or think about email.

Creative People as Friends

I hate relying on creative people for deep friendship. Because they're simply not going to be there when I want them to be.

But then again, when I need them...it's like they are waiting for me, right where we left off.

Funny as ever.
Bringing out the best in me at the worst of times.

Le sigh.