Return of the Prodigal

The whole 'no computer at home' tale has been a huge drag - no blogging, no emailing, no managing private affairs. But I hate not being able to write this stuff down somewhere, so here's the jump-cut rundown:

Why We Go Downtown

1. The two days before I left for the conference in Texas were pretty awful. Work exploded with two of my bosses out of town and tons of material that needed to be prepared for the next board meeting. I wasn't even fighting surges of panic; they were rolling around me and I was busy collapsing in a pool of self-pity and fear. Not to mention the fact that I very stupidly decided at the last minute to go to a book/art party in the city on a Monday night, mostly because the book is just so very cool -- one of the few scholarly books that is actually rather glam. Anyway, the opening reception was held (the book is about the downtown art scene in NY, from 1974-1984) in a gallery at Washington Square. It was amazing; lots of young, artsy people rubbing shoulders with the authentic hipsters from back in the 70s, when everything below 14th street became the ground for experimentation and outsider artists. Not my favorite period art-wise, but I'll admit I'm seduced by the idea of "downtown NYC, c. 1978" -- it's not just a location, it's an attitude, seemed to be the general cry.

2. Went to a very quirky bar called LIT afterwards, with the perfect crowd. Dorky, young, artsy, grungy. Artfully disheveled men and women, stroking their Rolling Rock beers and stroking one another. Almost (but not quite!) CBGB. Afterwards, Heath, Clara, Linda & I trooped around Alphabet City and pub-crawled with some weird guy called Noah who was engaging in an awkwardly-executed courtship with Clara. I don't know how many bars we went through - I do remember kind of liking the KGB bar, but at about 1 we drove back to Princeton and rose for work with burning eyes.

Don't Mess with Texas

3. Off to San Antonio! The verdict on Texas? Big hats, big boots, big 'tude: loved it. Loved it. It didn't hurt that they complained about 72 degree-weather as being chilly, or that my editor took me out to dinner every single night, thereby allowing me to splurge my stipend on turquoise accessories from a Navajo arts and crafts group. San Antonio is a small-ish city, which makes it easy to navigate. We went to the Alamo, the Riverwalk, El Mercado, La Villita, etc. I've got to say, I wasn't tremendously impressed by the Alamo. I know it's supposed to be this icon of American heroism, but the whole thing reeked more of the legend of Zorro than anything else...with less charming lead characters. Plus, given the context of San Antonio grandly boasting its Texan/Mexican mixed heritage at every turn, the Alamo struck me as being more than a little ironic. But it is interesting to see how Mexican culture has saturated the "American outpost" in so many ways.

4. Got asked out by sketchy professor on lunch date. Graciously (I was in shock) declined, and proceeded to run to the loo every time he reappeared in the conference hall. Ate Southwestern & Mexican food like it was going out of style and found the best margaritas ever. I even determined to purchase a rhinestone cowgirl hat so as to have a prop when I came home and sang,

"Like a rhinestone cowgirl;
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo"

but thought better of it at the last minute. I'm not into self-immolation, even if it comes with a shiny hat.

Home at the End of the World

6. Back home to find Sarah and Caroline sitting in my room already, watching Gilmore Girls. Having shamelessly invited themselves over, they proceeded to share the most fun vacation with friends I've had in a really long time. We giggled like idiots, watched girlie movies while Caroline burrowed under the covers in embarrassment, baked 48 cupcakes, ate about 39 of them, took cheesy candid photos in Target, and went on a mini-road trip to New Hope, PA.

The best thing about Caroline and Sarah is that they share my obsession with food, and religiously ensured that we had chocolate and pastry integrated into each day's routine. I didn't want them to leave because they managed to get my mind off work, which I've almost never done since I first started. They even made palatable a second screening of Pride & Prejudice with Keira Knightley. Mostly it was nice to reprimanded by people I love when I whined about work, romance, and money. Nothing like the words "You realize I'm going to beat you in a minute" to curb one's mournful tendencies.

That's about it. For now it seems like I'm heading back to the "same ol', same ol'" refrain for a little while. Minus the fact that this means there's so much work to do that I get nauseous, I'm not sorry to have an interlude. This weekend I really want to see Match Point. A.O. Scott has a tantalizing review out in the Times, and now that six degrees of separation has asserted itself (one of my colleagues knows his mother), I've reached two conclusions:
1. A.O. and I are tight
2. It's my duty to see Woody Allen's latest. I mean, next to vulgarity and schadenfreude, tennis is my raison d'être. ;)